Ashes to Ashes
by Zellarius Burvenia
Summary: The deaths and final thoughts of all the members of Organization XIII, from their POVs.
1. Nothingness

Xemnas felt the emptiness like never before.

His very existence was emptiness. Nothingness. It came with being a Nobody.

But this was different.

He felt...drained. Weak. Exhausted, like never before.

He would have cried if he still could.

In his desperation, he had poured all his energy into that last-ditch attack. The thousands upon thousands of points of light, surrounding the Keyblade wielders, filling their vision like so many stars in the sky. Stars that sped toward them at horrific speed, even faster than they could count. Xemnas had kept up the barrage, watching with grim concentration. He knew it was over. They were human, nothing more. Nothing with a heart could keep up with light itself trying to kill them.

Then why was he still attacking?

Why did he feel as if there was work still to be done?

He finally looked past the facade of rage that even now clouded his vision, his thoughts.

The thousands of points of light were speeding in the opposite direction. Fleeing as if from some unseen terror. Shooting off out of the sphere of death Xemnas had created for the wretched crusaders. And as more took their place, only to be reflected in the same manner as all the rest, Xemnas's rage drained out of him like his power. It was replaced by a growing feeling of sorrow. Of defeat.

They were fighting it.

His time was running out. The light was weakening. He was weakening. The Organization was weakening.

Already the lights were fading.

At last they disappeared completely.

Xemnas hung in midair like a marionette. Too exhausted to fight. To even move.

He barely summoned the strength to straighten up. To look ahead.

The last thing he saw was Sora and Riku, holding their keyblades aloft and parallel.

A bolt of light fired directly at him.

Not his light.

Not the facsimile born of nothingness - his nothingness.

Their light.

THE light.

Xemnas tried - too late - to twist out of the way.

The light pierced his chest.

It would have destroyed his heart, if he had still had one.

With no heart to seek out, the bolt of concentrated destruction turned to the next best thing: Him.

A storm of nothingness erupted in the air around Xemnas. Half-formed images, sigils, memories, hearts, souls, bodies, Heartless, Nobodies -

Nobodies.

It was the end of them all.

Xemnas reached out for his opponents one last time.

He felt himself slipping away.

Something dark and wispy passed in front of him.

A fraction of a second later, it had gone.

So had he.


	2. Space

_Plinkplinkplink!_

_Whapwhapwhap!_

Xigbar the Freeshooter vanished for an instant, appearing upside down on the other side of the Hall of Empty Melodies and cursing the annoying kid trying to kill him. Another volley of his own bullets had buried themselves in his flesh, and Xigbar definitely felt them dissipating more slowly, the wounds healing with more effort.

"Arms, reload!"

He had tried teleporting the bullets themselves – creating tiny kill zones for Sora and company.

They had danced and leaped out of harm's way.

He had fired bullets as big as Sora himself, but in retrospect, that had been a bad idea; the keyblade master just shot them right back. "_Too slow,_" he thought. "_I'm gettin' senile with age._"

He cracked a smile. Nobodies, he knew, didn't age.

Several times, he had collapsed pieces of the floor and rained bullets down on the slippery little buggers as they desperately scrambled for safety. That had in itself had been a hell of a lot of fun, but still Sora fought.

And so did Xigbar.

_Whack!_

One of Xigbar's ribs cracked before he teleported again. The kid was fast – he had lost count of how many times he had been caught with the Keybade.

He was quickly running out of ideas.

"_Damn it._" Through his pain, Xigbar silently chastised himself for allowing someone with a giant key to get this far. "_I mean, I'm the one with the guns here!_"

Weapons aside, Xigbar was on the ropes.

It was his fault, he knew, for clearing out the Heartless.

His fault for not letting them beat Sora down a little more.

His fault for being such a sportsman about all this.

He teleported up to the balcony, his old sniping post.

At least he wasn't Luxord. Everything was a sport to him. Cards – what the hell kind of a weapon were cards?

_Plink!_

A hit. That was refreshing.

_Plink! Plink! Plink!_

_Whap! Whap! Whap!_

For nothing's sake, where the _hell _did the kid learn to teleport?

The first two bullets grazed Xigbar's guns.

"Clever little sneak," he growled.

And the third bullet shattered his knee.

"Aagh!" Xigbar tried to stand, and staggered.

He tried to heal. Couldn't.

Tried to teleport. His outline blurred, but stayed where it was.

He was out.

Xigbar swayed, then fell twenty feet to the floor.

He landed on his feet, gritting his teeth in pain.

_There!_ Sora was right in front of him. A clear shot!

Xigbar pulled the trigger.

_Click._

No more bullets.

No more strength.

Xigbar collapsed.

Sora took a step forward, keyblade raised. "Why did you call me Roxas?"

Darkness was already starting to claim Xigbar. He chuckled. "_Moron. He's not getting it from me._"

"Wouldn't you like to know."


	3. Air

The great bridge of Beast's castle was engulfed in chaos.

It was alive with magic, alive with wind turned to weaponry, alive with cries of pain and anger and alarm.

Xaldin smirked. It was _his_ chaos, he thought, sending three of his lances on a deadly course towards his opponents. The darkened skies, the biting cold wind, the very air were his to command.

And command them he did.

Sora and his band of fools stood no chance. Xaldin would obliterate them all this night. And that was all that mattered.

Once, he supposed, his existence – or, more appropriately, his nonexistence – had held some more meaning. Once, he had been a man of science. Of reason.

Of compassion.

Two of his lances missed, the third glancing off Goofy's shield barely half a second before impact.

Xaldin grimaced inwardly, whipping up a tornado in the enemy's midst. The man he used to be was no more, and he was all the better for it. Xaldin's primary goal now was cleaning up after Dilan.

Dilan.

How he hated that name. It was only a liability – a reminder of weaker days.

Xaldin swatted the keyblade wielder out of the air with a particularly vicious blow.

None of this had to happen. The darkness didn't have to get out of control. Radiant Garden didn't have to fall to those vile, savage Heartless.

He didn't have to lose his heart.

But Dilan had let it happen. He had failed.

The Nobody that had replaced him leaped out of the path of a charging Beast. Failure had left Xaldin along with his heart.

"_Had it?"_ Xaldin thought sourly, hastily assembling his lanes into a dragonlike form. He had come so close with Beast. The castle had been his; the pathetic creature who resided there had, per Xaldin's "suggestions", driven away his friends – even his "lover," Belle.

The dragon soared through the night sky, across the bridge, Xaldin standing astride its head.

"His lover." Xaldin scoffed at the very idea. What was love but a mutual feeling of lust, harnessed and used to an advantage by one participant?

There was always an ulterior motive. You couldn't trust anyone, least of all yourself. Xaldin had learned this lesson well at Radiant Garden.

What led him to doubt himself was the fact that Beast had not. He had returned to Belle after throwing her out, the fool. Not only had he condemned himself to an eventual betrayal at her hands, but he had also lost Xaldin a particularly powerful Heartless and Nobody.

Xaldin growled, raining gusts of wind sharp as his lances down on Sora and company. He won either way, after he was done with them. The Beast was his. A new Heartless, a new Nobody to control.

Darkness and nothingness.

His killer and his jailer.

That was definitely one of the Organization's perks. Control. Power – of the sort Dilan had lacked.

Xaldin used every inch of it on this night.

But sometime after dismounting and dismantling the dragon, it occurred to him that he shouldn't have to.

Yet through Xaldin's barrage of lances and lancing winds, Sora and Donald and Goofy and Beast had persisted, and continued to do so. And as the battle wore on, Xaldin found himself playing more and more defensively. Winds that had torn violently at his opponents, their skin and clothes, now pushed them desperately back. Lances that had flown at terrifying speed to pierce now formed a protective cage to defend.

And shortly after this realization, Xaldin found himself increasingly on the receiving end of his enemies' attacks. His lances whirled and spun like lightning, faster than sound, blocking Keyblade and spell and shield and claw – but not always in time.

Was he to fail in the same manner as Dilan? This question haunted Xaldin, grim in its slowly growing relevance.

For like it or not, Xaldin was losing. The memory of Dilan's fall cut as deeply as Beast's claws – which, Xaldin noted, spinning away too late to avoid them, was quite deep indeed.

Beast's claws were the filthy, grasping talons of countless Shadows, clamoring incessantly for hearts. A fireball that singed Xaldin's braids as it passed burned Xehanort's papers, his machines, his life's work with merciless hunger. The bridge was the laboratory, Dilan's last stand.

Xaldin's grave.

Xaldin backflipped to avoid the Keyblade's strikes, melted an incoming ice bolt with a superheated jet of air, and flew – with too much effort – out of his executioners' reach. It was all he could do to stem his bleeding, hold his bones in place, stay afloat and alive. But soon, Xaldin knew, even this would be beyond him.

He would lose.

But he would not fail.

His lances reformed. The dragon towered menacingly in the sky, Xaldin at its head. He rose a hundred feet, taking it into a kamikaze spiral, perpendicular to the bridge, straight for Sora. The young Keyblade Master was his great enemy – something to be eliminated at any cost. He would be Xaldin's savior as well, his life all that stood between the Whirlwind Lancer and irredeemable failure.

The dragon screamed down upon the battlefield. Xaldin roared in triumph. Sora leaped. The Keyblade flashed.

Xaldin was struck from the dragon. He fell heavily upon the hewn stones below, his ribs screaming in protest. His lances followed, littering the ground around him, fallen and useless.

"_NO!"_ It would not end here!

Xaldin pushed himself to a standing position, willfully ignoring the agony searing his every nerve. He fixed Sora with a crazed, livid stare, summoned a blast of wind to knock the damned creature into oblivion.

But the wind would not obey.

Xaldin saw his lances rise in the air around him, straight up and down, beyond his control. They glowed, exploding into six shafts of purest, blinding light. They burned Xaldin even more than the pain of his injuries, and were quickly overshadowed by a different, greater pain.

The pain of defeat. Of failure.

He saw Dilan in his dimming, anguish-clouded vision, collapsing under an unstoppable tide of darkness. That same darkness finally claimed him now, as he began to dissipate and fade with his weapons.

Xaldin threw his head back, giving the last of his nonbeing over to a terrible roar of pain, of fury, of absolute sorrow.

And still the wind blew, but gave no reply.


	4. Ice

To the untrained observer, the entryway of Twilight Town's abandoned mansion would have looked like a self-contained blizzard – ice and snow flying this way and that, obscuring the scene taking place within.

A closer look would have yielded three figures, obscured by the ice bolts and freezing winds, desperately fighting for survival against a fourth figure, hiding behind a massive cobalt shield adorned with five nasty spikes.

Even closer inspection would reveal that the fourth figure was Vexen, the Chilly Academic, Organization XIII's number IV (a fact he wasted no time reminding the others of). He had expected a challenging battle – after all, Sora and his absurd animal friends had braved ten floors of Castle Oblivion.

"_Ten! What _do _they feed them on the Destiny Islands?_" Vexen wondered, targeting and narrowly missing Goofy with a fusillade of icicles. The sheer tenacity of his opponents _was _a surprise - after all, as Sora progressed through the stronghold at the edge of existence, he lost more and more of his memories. The shield-carrying Nobody had lost quite a bit of munny after betting Zexion that the Keyblade Master would forget how to breathe somewhere around floor 8.

It was not for this reason that Vexen intended to kill the boy. Not because of some petty wager, not because Sora was simply too stupid to go on living. No, it was out of self-preservation. It was all thanks to that pink-haired fruitcake Marluxia – he held the Riku Replica's defeat over Vexen's head and Vexen over the proverbial barrel. He had threatened to tell the Superior – what was Vexen to do but succeed where the Replica had failed?

The Keyblade struck with a force that would have shattered the mansion gates behind Vexen, but bounced harmlessly off Vexen's shield.

"_Marluxia, you fool. What use is he dead?_" This thought had been Vexen's focus ever since he had set out on his mission. Surely there could be another way – the Replica could be improved, Sora could be overrun with all those disgusting Heartless infesting every corner of the castle. But _NO_ – Vexen had to kill him to save face, removing the Organization of its greatest threat, but cheating them out of possibly the most powerful Heartless since Ansem.

Vexen found this, in a word, _vexing_.

At least he could channel his frustration into something constructive – "_like freezing Donald in a block of ice_," Vexen noted happily as this attack found its mark. There were only so many times he could torture the other Organization members in frozen effigy before getting bored.

How he hated them.

Xemnas, at least, seemed to know how the hierarchy worked – save for Saïx. Number VII, and treated like his second in command! Even would have laughed in his face. Regardless, he was the leader, and had the Organization's best interests in mind.

"Firaga!" "Freeze!" Boy and Nobody canceled each other out.

Xigbar and Xaldin – deadly efficient, which Vexen liked, but what _conclusive _progress towards their hearts had they made? Xaldin had taken that Jamestown place without finding so much as a sliver of Dilan. Only the Superior knew where Xigbar was.

Saïx constantly overstepped his authority. Demyx was utterly useless – someday they'd liberate his true disposition. He'd make a good fighter if he wasn't afraid of the shadow he didn't even cast. Luxord acted like everyone existed to entertain_ him._ Roxas – where the _hell _had Roxas been lately? And who knew what Axel was up to at any given moment, though he was ostensibly on Zexion's side.

Lost in his furious thoughts, Vexen nearly forgot to block a shield bash from Goofy.

Lexaeus was the only one he could tolerate – he at least respected Vexen for his rank, even if he didn't take orders from him. No, he answered to Zexion, that infuriating little chessmaster. Number VI, and he dared to order him around – "_Me, number IV!_" like some nonexistent dog. Though there was no love lost between Numbers VI and XI, Vexen dearly wished Zexion some horrible fate, preferably by his hands or by his Replica's.

Wouldn't that be lovely?

Vexen whirled to block a flurry of strikes from Sora, stumbling back to avoid it. He forgot his embarrassment at giving ground when Donald's fire caught him in the leg. Vexen gritted his teeth, but refused to go down on one knee. He cast a path of ice on the ground, sliding out of the danger zone to recover.

Larxene. That absolute _bitch_. Whoever Arlene was in her past life, she must have been universally hated. That spoiled child thought the universe was her oyster, its inhabitants her playthings – even more so, now that she was Marluxia's right hand. What had she done for the Organization, other than abuse a teenage girl? She would have made a terrible mother. Vexen shuddered at the thought of more of her, thanking the nothingness that it was no longer a possibility.

Marluxia was the worst of them all. Number XI, and he saw himself as the lord of the castle. So, irritatingly, did Xemnas. Vexen would never understand why he had given Marluxia this position. He acted like a Superior all on his own, despite his positively subterranean rank – it was a wonder that that insufferably arrogant Lamuria hadn't been hunted down and killed by his own people.

Vexen would show him. He'd kill Sora and Donald and Goofy on his own – or better yet, beat them into submission and harness their Heartless and Nobodies for himself! "_Who'd be the Lord of the Castle then?"_ Vexen thought smugly. He was, after all, the highest-ranking in the building. Might as well earn his keep, unlike _some_ foolish gardeners he knew.

Although at the moment, he wasn't doing a very good job of it. Icicles and snowballs and deadly frozen spikes split the very air into pieces, and yet Sora and friends somehow managed to dodge it all, or break out a Cure or two if they failed to. Often, Vexen's shield just wasn't enough to stave off the attacks of all three at once. He briefly envied Xaldin – he had _six _lances, the pretentious blowhard, "_Pun fully intended, thank you very much_."

And just as Vexen's defenses were crumbling, so too was his resolve. As the battle entered the late stages, and the ice manipulator fell victim to more and more of the enemy's strikes, he found that he cared less and less.

Suddenly it came to him. "_They can't kill me. They're the _heroes_ of this little farce. Mercy is their middle name!_" It was so simple. Let them strike him down, then reveal the Graceful Assassin's little plot and use them to his own advantage. _Then _he could get back to making the boy his personal servant.

_Now!_ Sora slapped Vexen hard in the side with the Keyblade – something he could ordinarily shrug off. In Vexen's weakened state, it hurt more than it should have. And why not? It'd add to the illusion.

Vexen gave a mock cry of anguish, vanishing his shield and falling to his knees. He prided himself on his acting.

"Urgh…you have such strength, even at the mercy of your memory…" Vexen smirked inwardly, struggling to contain his laughter. He could fight another day.

Sora was indignant. "None of that matters! Just put Riku back!"

That did it. Vexen howled with laughter. Did he really not see it yet?

"Just put him back?" Vexen mocked him, getting to his feet – a laborious effort, he noticed. Perhaps he was more exhausted than he thought. "The Riku you speak of has but one fate: to sink into the darkness" – here Vexen stumbled – "and you will share that fate, Sora!"

Not technically a lie. The Replica would eventually outlive its usefulness, and the true Riku couldn't fight his dark heart forever. And Sora's Heartless would prove _most _useful indeed. Time to set him on the proper course.

"If you continue to seek this girl, Naminé, the shackles will tighten, you'll lose your heart, and end up becoming Marluxia's pawn!" The trap was set. Now for his prey to take the bait.

Sora's face registered shock and confusion. "Marluxia?" "_Yes! He's hooked!_" "What does Naminé have to do with-"

Vexen's eagerness was cut short by a burning attack on his chest, knocking him to the ground. "Aaagh!"

A burning chakram.

Sora turned, just as surprised as Vexen. "Axel!" Vexen's thoughts exactly.

"Yo, Sora. Did I catch you at a bad time?" Axel was his usual smug self. What in the _worlds _was he doing here?

Vexen managed to get to his knees, the burning in his chest having subsided to a dull stinging by this point. Was that a puncture wound? Why wouldn't it heal?

The color fled Vexen's face. "Axel, why…?" He left his question hanging. Axel would know the answer. Only he would know why he was betraying Zexion, betraying _Vexen_, in this way.

Axel folded his arms, fixing a look on Vexen that said "Don't you get it, you fool?"

"I came to stop you from talking too much…by eliminating your existence."

_No_! Axel was Marluxia's creature all along! Everything – _ruined_!

Vexen, in his moment of dawning comprehension, found the strength to stand. It was well known that Nobodies had no emotions, yet at the moment Vexen felt something he imagined was a close approximation of fear. "No...Don't do it!" It couldn't end this way!

Axel didn't even blink. "We are just Nobodies who have no one to be, yet still 'are.'" He smiled then, rather like a spider must at a helpless fly. "But now you can be nothing instead of just being a Nobody. You're off the hook."

Vexen panicked. This couldn't be happening! He desperately ran through his options in the space of a second or two.

His shield would not appear. He couldn't teleport away. He lacked the strength to run or to fight.

"_Method acting – my final mistake,_" Vexen managed to realize through his tangle of fearful thoughts, as he backed into the locked gate behind him.

"No…Please don't!" How had he been reduced to begging for the mercy of a subordinate? _HOW???_ "I don't want to-"

"Goodbye."

Vexen was cut off by Axel's nonchalant farewell – and by an all-consuming inferno. A blast of fire erupted from his position, the epicenter where his heart would be. Heat and flame hotter than a mid-size star seared Vexen inside and out. His world exploded into a dimension of undiluted pain, only to fade away moments later.

Fire melted ice, evaporated water.

An icy wind put out the fire – and scattered the remnant vapor of the Chilly Academic to the four winds.

Sora looked on in horror, not believing what he had seen. A man had been murdered before him, consumed by more fire than Donald could ever control. He couldn't hold in his shock. "What _are _you people?!?"

Axel chuckled, disappearing off to who knew where.

"Don't know. I wonder about that myself."


	5. Earth

"_Why am I here?"_ thought Lexaeus.

In a sense, he already knew the answer; the silver-haired teenager attempting to murder him at the moment made it abundantly clear. He was here to test Riku's resolve, the goal being to make Riku succumb to his inner darkness, whereupon the Organization could (hopefully) make him theirs.

It was an answer, but not the one the Silent Hero was looking for.

"_Why did Aeleus lose his heart? Why am I part of the Organization? Why am I here, at Castle Oblivion?" _That was the true meaning of his question.

As he swung his tomahawk dangerously downward for a crippling blow (which Riku rolled away from) he realized that he knew the answer to this first part. _"Xehanort's experiments with the mechanics of the heart went horribly wrong, and now here we are." _It was as clear and real as the vibration of the tomahawk's impact on the castle's floor.

His heart wasn't really his primary focus, actually. True, Organization XIII was formed out of a mutual interest in recovering the members' hearts – by any means necessary. That, Lexaeus noted, was the second part of the question; he and the rest of Xehanort's team formed the core of the effort, and the others had come along later, united by the same goal of completion.

Right now, however, Lexaeus couldn't focus on his lack of a heart. He had a job to do.

Riku leaped halfway across the hall which hosted the battle, slicing the air in two for a shot at Lexaeus' neck that barely missed. _"And for my own sake, I'm sure as hell going to do it right," _he mused, grabbing Riku and throwing him to the ground.

Besides, this was just a small part of the plan, if Zexion had it all figured out. With Larxene out of the way (thanks to Sora's efforts), the path to the traitor Marluxia was clear. It was, of course, wrong for one Organization member to strike down another. That was just bad for everyone – it meant one less ally in their quest for hearts.

But was Marluxia really an ally anymore?

Not if his designs on Sora were any indication. As the Keyblade master ascended the floors of Castle Oblivion, his memories faded. That was the nature of the castle. Consequently, however, he was becoming more and more unstable, and this fact had not escaped the Graceful Assassin. Marluxia saw in Sora an unstoppable weapon – one he could use against the Superior. And if he could betray Xemnas, he could betray Lexaeus and the others in the basement, and was that really healthy? Could they withstand such an assault?

Not without doing the same to Riku as Marluxia intended to do to Sora. Not without a superweapon to rival Marluxia's.

Besides, what was the Organization's number one law? Eliminate all who betray Organization XIII. Marluxia fell into that category; Lexaeus was contractually obligated to destroy him.

Lexaeus considered all this as he ran towards Riku's injured body on the floor before him, swinging his tomahawk around for another strike. He hadn't gone five steps before his opponent recovered, twisted to the side, and delivered a particularly stinging attack to Lexaeus' leg. He stumbled, but only for a moment. He'd suffered worse.

Lexaeus whirled, assuming a defensive stance as Riku lunged for him.

"_Which leads me"_ – parry –_ "to the third part of the question, I suppose."_ Boy and man spun at the same time, aiming to kill but only filling the hallway with a resounding _CLANG _as Keyblade and tomahawk, Soul Eater and Torn Heaven, met with equal, earth-shattering force. _"Vexen is gone, but if we can subdue Riku we can certainly hold our own against Marluxia."_ That, Lexaeus concluded, was his reason for being here. That was what Zexion was after: Riku. And if Zexion was after him, it followed that Lexaeus was as well.

Riku and Lexaeus struck again and again, neither backing down as the castle shook with the fury of their confrontation. So far, the plan was working. More and more, it seemed, Riku was giving himself over to his anger and inner darkness, which was exactly the point. _"Should make Zexion's job easier,"_ Lexaeus noted as he raised a wall of rock to counter Riku's offensive.

Unfortunately, it wasn't making Lexaeus' job any simpler. The rock wall held for a moment or two, and was then shattered by a ball of dark fire. Riku launched himself straight through the dust as it cleared, viciously cutting and stabbing at the surprised Nobody, who found himself – for the first time in what seemed like forever – giving ground. To a _smaller _opponent, no less.

"_This was _not _what I signed up for."_ Lexaeus blocked and blocked again, taken aback at the sheer conviction and vindictiveness of his opponent's assault. He had once thought that no human could move so quickly, dodge and leap and roll with such agility, as a Nobody, but every second he fought Riku contradicted this belief. The darkness gave Riku strength and speed beyond what he should logically possess, and Lexaeus was continually reminded of this – especially when some of Riku's attacks slipped through his defenses.

His skin broke, and was repaired; bruises appeared, and vanished; the natural healing of a greater Nobody was working double time to keep Lexaeus on his feet. And so was Lexaeus himself, returning Riku's attacks with equal ferocity and finally driving him back across the sterile hallway. The tomahawk lashed out to meet the Keyblade, both weapons extensions of their masters' conflicting objectives.

Lexaeus lunged for Riku, swung, missed, tore through a pillar. Riku backflipped away from the impact, raising his Keyblade to block the debris Lexaeus resourcefully flung his way. Running back across the hallway at terrifying speed, Riku thrust his Keyblade forward for a killing strike. Lexaeus barely managed to bring his tomahawk up in time, blocking the Keyblade's deadly advance. The combatants held their positions for ten agonizing seconds, each straining to hold back their opponent's attack and overcome their defense.

Simultaneous bursts of dark energy and earth energy from both sides did nothing to tip the balance of power either way, but created a shockwave that hurled Riku and Lexaeus to separate ends of the hallway – Riku standing before the entrance, Lexaeus guarding the exit, as they had begun. The difference was their mutual weakened state; both were equally matched in terms of power and ability, and each had worn the other down quite a bit. Lexaeus fell to one knee, struggling to catch his breath and leaning on his tomahawk for support; Riku stood twenty feet away from him, defiantly standing despite the exertion of the fight.

"You're finished!" Riku roared, leaping the distance and readying a savage thrust with his Keyblade.

"_Far from it,"_ thought Lexaeus, and stood to meet him. It was clear that the battle had taken a toll on his young opponent; he left himself wide open for a counter, a fact which Lexaeus took great advantage of.

"Don't mock me!" Lexaeus bellowed back, swinging his tomahawk up in the blink of an eye. The force of the blow generated an audible, sickening _WHACK_; Lexaeus guessed that he had broken several bones. Possibly Riku's spine. That would take some heavy-duty healing when all was said and done.

Riku hit the ceiling, his face crisscrossed with shock, defeat, and agony, yet verbally expressing these with only a grunt of pain and surprise. His body fell limply to the floor, Soul Eater clattering uselessly to the floor beside it. Riku did not move, nor did he make any further noise.

Lexaeus surveyed his fallen opponent, then nodded in satisfaction. His job was done.

"_Now to get him back to Zexion. Marluxia is as good as dead."_

Lexaeus moved to collect the body, limping slightly; he had diverted some of his power from healing to fighting, with tangible consequences. "You were too much trouble," he addressed Riku's body, voicing his exhausted thoughts. _"I'll be feeling you for a few days,"_ he added silently.

About ten feet from Riku, Lexaeus stopped. The fallen body of the young Keyblade wielder was alive with swirling tendrils and clouds of dark energy, burning with dark fire, and in seconds was completely obscured. Lexaeus gasped in surprise, at once bewildered and on guard. Was this another trick of Riku's – some way of manipulating the darkness he hadn't counted on?

The darkness cleared up, coalescing into a familiar form.

Riku – but not Riku. His clothes had darkened to purple and black, a sign of his connection to the darkness within. A moment passed, and he rose to a crouch, seemingly waiting for an attack.

Common sense told Lexaeus that he should immediately provide one. Something was wrong – he could sense Riku's scent, but it was weaker, overpowered by something darker, fouler, stronger, _entirely different – _

Riku disappeared, and a line of searing pain from hip to shoulder interrupted Lexaeus' frantic thoughts. His tomahawk fell heavily to the ground; the Silent Hero would not wield it again. Lexaeus nearly screamed in shock and agony, but the sound was choked off almost as soon as it was made.

Riku materialized behind him, frozen in a follow-through position, a triumphant smirk fixed on his face.

"_Too slow."_

The voice was Riku's, but there was another layered over it, a deeper voice, a darker voice…

Lexaeus suddenly realized where he had heard it before; this realization was all he would have time to consider.

He lurched forward, struggling to stay on his feet. "You _are_ the Superior's –" _Heartless,_he finished in his head. He had no need to address what Riku had become, to tell him what he already knew, to justify further the smirk he knew Riku had to be wearing now.

Darkness appeared in the air surrounding Lexaeus, like holes eating away at reality. It swirled around him in ever-increasing quantities as Lexaeus' nonexistence slipped away.

"Forgive me, Zexion." He had failed to protect the Cloaked Schemer, possibly cost him his chance at survival. Marluxia faced Zexion on a clear field.

"This was not a fight I should have started."

Lexaeus disappeared in a contained, controlled storm of darkness. It almost seemed to taunt him as it consumed him: _Look what Riku destroyed you with. Look at your ultimate fate: the very darkness you sought to tame._

He had done his job too well.

---

A/N

Sorry for taking so long with this update. My schedule is a LOT clearer now (it being summer and all) and you should be seeing a lot more from me over the next few months. I realize I made a mistake with Xemnas' fight - there's a whole sequence of him getting beaten up after the Million Laser attack. I'm trying to be as accurate as possible, and that was a slip of the old memory banks. I'm not impressed with "Nothingness" in general, though, so there you are. Unity Through Chaos will also be updating soon, and I'll have another "Tale from the Factory Room" as well. (Hint: The latter involves a spaceman in black and a Spanish fencer.)

Love and thanks to the readers

Zellarius Burvenia


	6. Illusion

"_The Destiny Islands. What _does_ he see in this place?"_

During one of Zexion's spare moments in his duel with Riku, this thought came to him from out of the blue, as his thoughts often did. The Cloaked Schemer toyed with it, with what little of his mind wasn't focused on battering Riku into submission.

"_Of course, I'm focusing on the negative. This is a memory of the islands' destruction, and that's hardly pleasant. They're actually quite lovely. Xemnas should consider keeping them after we win."_

Riku charged, Keyblade pulverizing everything unfortunate enough to get in his way, which included a tree trunk and several medium-size rocks. _"But not me." _Zexion took several quick steps back, letting Riku throw himself off balance. Riku paused to recover, and was immediately beset by a flurry of lexicons – copies of Zexion's massive leatherbound weapon.

All in all, Zexion was rather satisfied with his performance thus far. True, the death of Lexaeus hadn't been entirely necessary – it was a waste of a powerful ally, and the Silent Hero had been one of the few Zexion had ever considered a friend. Vexen, too – belligerent, perhaps, but he had his uses. But the mission was progressing nonetheless. Marluxia and Larxene were dead, Riku had outlived his usefulness, and the Organization was stable once more.

Dark fire flared in all directions from Riku's location. The cloud of books picking at Riku's defenses exploded in a shower of torn and bent pages, which quickly straightened and flew at his major veins like paper shuriken. Death by a thousand cuts was averted by several lightning-quick Keyblade strikes, and Riku leaped through the lifeless shower of confetti with only minor injuries.

Zexion summoned a lexicon bigger than he was, shielding himself and hiding him as he teleported behind his opponent. As Riku slashed the pages apart, Zexion nonchalantly withdrew a small silver volume from his sleeve. Borrowing some darkness from the maelstrom surrounding the battlefield, Zexion fashioned a tiny quill. This began writing in the book, which was now in orbit around Zexion.

_Diary:_

_That shield/teleport maneuver always works. Had I a heart, I would weep for today's warriors._

_Damned convenient, though._

Once Riku realized that Zexion was elsewhere, he whirled and shot a barrage of fireballs at anything that moved. One of these things was Zexion, who twisted to avoid the rain of fire and received some nasty second-degree burns on his left arm. The wound would heal in seconds, but Zexion chastised himself nonetheless. Lapses in attention were fatal.

As the fight dragged on, Zexion wondered if there wasn't an element of danger beyond the present state of affairs. He ran through his checklist, recalling any and all threats to the Organization.

Larxene: Killed in action.

Marluxia: Killed in action.

Sora: Location unknown, but he would need time to recover, if indeed it was possible.

Riku: Being dealt with.

The one problem was that except for Axel, Zexion was now alone in the castle. This was patently unnerving; Axel was the one wild card in Zexion's game. Yes, he had been on his side up to this point, but would that last? Axel chafed at authority; Zexion was loyal to the Superior, and Xemnas…Xemnas _was _authority. Besides, Vexen had died by Axel's hand.

"_And," _Zexion decided, blocking the Keyblade, running up Riku's front, kicking him in the face, and backflipping to a standing position, _"if he can do it once, he can easily do it again." _As Riku held his broken nose, staggering and wrapping himself in dark, flaming armor, Zexion snapped his fingers. Darkness flowed from his hand, forming two pillars on Riku's left and right. Almost instantly, the darkness coalesced into perfect images of Zexion.

"You should share your power!" he taunted Riku. Zexion's clones grabbed him by the arms; dark fire surrounded them as Riku's dark energy was drained. Riku struggled, but the illusions limited his movement as Zexion himself approached him.

"Would you like me to make it stop?" Riku growled, and spat in Zexion's face. The Nobody was unmoved. "Oh, I think you would."

Zexion channeled some of Riku's dark fire into his hand, forming a replica of Riku's Keyblade. "Your torment is at an end!" Zexion shouted victoriously, drawing back the burning illusion for a fatal strike.

Riku smirked. "Yours is just beginning!"

Before Zexion could react, Riku held a hand under one of the clones' heads – and summoned his Keyblade.

The weapon appeared in Riku's hand, impaling the clone's head as soon as it did so. Zexion's clone opened its eyes wide in surprise and agony, emitting a wordless cry of pain as dark fire poured from its eyes and mouth. Riku jerked the Keyblade to the right, swinging the helpless clone around and crashing it into its partner. Shocked and totally off guard, Zexion struck, only to be knocked back as Riku threw the lifeless clones at their master.

Both clones hit Zexion with the force of a hurricane, reuniting with his battered body and knocking him to the ground. Zexion skidded on the sand; before he could stand, Riku was upon him.

Zexion was almost defenseless against Riku's attacks, as the infuriated boy called upon the power of his inner darkness to fuel his merciless assault. Fists and Keyblade flew in equal measure, blocked only about half the time by Zexion's desperate efforts at self-preservation. Ribs cracked, fingers broke, and bruises marred Zexion's otherwise flawless features. It was all Zexion could do to keep from passing out from the pain and summon a storm of pages to rip his foe off of him.

Riku was thrown across the sand by the paper storm; he simply twisted in midair to land on his feet. He readied his Keyblade, regarding the crippled Nobody about ten yards from him.

Zexion rolled over, laboriously crawling to his feet as his wounds healed. _"Incredible!" _Zexion thought through his pain. _"It's almost as if he's an instrument of darkness itself! Such brutality…"_ He scoffed. "After all your protests, you're still like us, on the side of darkness." Technically, Riku was doing exactly what Zexion and the others had wanted him to do. Total corruption seemed at hand…and yet, the boy retained his form, his humanity-

"I know who I am!" Riku roared.

-his power of speech.

Could he possibly have learned to control it? Impossible. He had to end up as _someone's _puppet when all was said and done.

Zexion staggered, and chuckled mirthlessly. "When did that happen? You were always terrified of the dark before-"

"_Not anymore!"_ interrupted Riku. He leaped at insane speed toward Zexion, and the Nobody barely had time to raise a hand to defend himself.

A single gasp.

A single slash of the Keyblade.

A single cry of pain and defeat.

---

Zexion stumbled forward, vanishing from the battlefield.

He reappeared in a dim, secluded corner of Castle Oblivion, staggering over to a wall and bracing himself against it. Zexion held his right side in an iron grip; that final attack had come close to ripping him in half, and it would be some time and several hours of rest before he was fully healed. Even then, there would be a nasty scar. _"Xigbar and Saïx will be _so _jealous," _Zexion thought sourly. That was only a fleeting sentiment, as Zexion was quickly consumed by panic.

"What _is _he? No one's ever worn the darkness the way he does! It's impossible!"

The sound of someone opening a portal seized Zexion's attention. He turned to see Riku, staring at him with a triumphant smirk on his face. Axel appeared behind him, wearing the same expression.

Zexion gasped, flattening himself against the wall. _"No! How did he find me!?"_ But he calmed down almost immediately; Riku didn't know the castle that well. "Oh…oh, yes, the Replica…of course…" Zexion was struck by a wild hope, a perfect way to end the horror. "We can use this Riku to defeat the real one!" he addressed Axel, counting on his fellow Nobody to agree.

Axel merely held Zexion's gaze, smiling as if enjoying a private joke.

"Axel…?" Zexion asked, suddenly worried. He didn't like the look on Number VIII's face.

"Wouldn't you like to be real?" Axel's question was directed at the Riku Replica, which nodded. "All you need is the kind of power that the real Riku doesn't have. If you can get that, you can be a new person – not Riku, nor anybody else. You won't just be a copy of someone. You will be unique – your own self." Axel spoke in a dangerous tone of voice, never once breaking eye contact with Zexion.

This was preposterous. A Replica was doomed to imitation; its nature prevented it from being unique. Zexion knew this, and he knew Axel did as well. "Axel! What are you saying to him?" Something was wrong.

Axel didn't respond. "You know, he's as good a place to start as any," he said, and Zexion suddenly realized what Axel meant.

"You can't do this-" Zexion was cut off by the Replica's sudden movement. It shoved him up against the wall, grabbing him by the throat and choking off any further speech.

"_It was all an illusion," _Zexion thought in his last seconds. _"Control, security, power – an illusion."_

Zexion struggled, but was helpless in his weakened state. He couldn't teleport, either – all his power was devoted to healing his side and fighting the increasing pressure and lancing pain in his neck. The Replica took no notice, draining Zexion's energy in a horrible reversal of the earlier battle, tightening his grip and-

_SNAP._

Zexion abruptly ceased all movement, and dark fire engulfed his body as the Replica absorbed the last of his power.

"Sorry, Zexion," Axel said as Number VI's body faded into darkness. "You just found out way too much."


	7. Moon

"_Can you feel it? The moon's power!"_

Truly, this was the great advantage of being a Nobody. A heart wore you like a glove, filling you completely, guiding your every action and thought, selfishly leaving no room for anything save itself.

The absence of one created a void which a greater Nobody could fill with the very essences of existence, becoming one with ice or fire or time itself. Nobodies, of course, could not and did not exist; but these elements gave them the faintest ghost of what the feeling was once like. It was like a drug, this power – a tantalizing sample of a lofty, daunting goal.

And it was the only reason Saïx hadn't destroyed himself years ago.

The light from the great moon, Kingdom Hearts, shone down through the nothing-forged windows of the Addled Impasse, bathing Saïx in its luminescence and reminding him of this fact all through the battle with Sora and company.

"_If only these fools knew what they were really doing,"_ thought Saïx, leaping twenty feet into the air and slamming his claymore into the floor just inches from a panicking Donald. The impact would have killed the duck instantly, but in place of a clean hit a lunar shockwave raced outward from the point of contact, throwing Donald across the room. Saïx stood, wrenched his weapon from the ground, and growled, keeping a close eye on the enemies' movements.

"_What are we Nobodies but victims of fate?" _Saïx's mind ventured as his body sped towards the closest target._ "Innocent bystanders on the road of fortune, parted from our hearts and ripped from our lives as rocks in a hurricane."_

The Luna Diviner's thoughts organized themselves more or less along these lines, busily working toward a conclusion as he knocked Goofy aside and swung his weapon at Sora. The Keyblade master jumped back, avoiding most of the impact but suffering a nasty cut across his legs. Nothing magic couldn't fix, as Donald immediately proved with a shouted "Curaga!"

Saïx split his claymore into two identical weapons, throwing one at the offending mage; it barely missed, sticking in the wall behind Donald.

As he followed this up with a series of shockwaves forged from the moonlight itself, Saïx cursed Sora and his allies for their misguided crusade. Organization XIII did not seek to destroy. It merely sought to create – to give new lives to its members. All they wanted were their hearts.

At least, that was all Saïx wanted. Xemnas had other ideas.

Sora leaped over a shockwave, hitting the wall and running down its surface to the forgotten claymore. After some struggling, he managed to free it from the wall, seemingly gaining newfound strength from the act of holding it. He turned to face Saïx in a duel of berserkers, Keyblade momentarily discarded.

Saïx smirked, and claymore met claymore with terrifying force. Sora was far less practiced with the massive sword, allowing Saïx room to focus on his thoughts.

"_I wonder…Does Xemnas even care about his own heart? Has he forgotten the purpose of the Organization?"_ Recently, Xemnas had spent more and more time in solitude atop the Castle, in the Altar of Naught, increasingly obsessed with Kingdom Hearts and its progress. This had not escaped Saïx, who questioned the wisdom of such pursuits. It certainly looked pretty, but what use was it to the Organization at large? If any of the Organization's hearts had been recovered, they would have known immediately. But only Xemnas cared. Why?

"_It's possible, I suppose," _Saïx considered, striking the claymore from Sora's hands, _"that he knows something we don't. We might not have any use for Kingdom Hearts, but he might."_

Saïx drove his claymore into the ground, creating a burst of blue fire that radiated out to consume the warriors of the Keyblade. Weaponized moonlight sought out a target, any target, but found none; all three opponents were safe within a magical shield. Whose it was could not be determined.

"_So it's true, then. All those hearts are for Xemnas's benefit. He knows how to use them for power, and he's not telling us."_ "Us." A barely appropriate term; not counting Roxas, only two members of the Organization remained. But now that Saïx's suspicions of Xemnas had been confirmed…

Come to think of it, there wasn't really a choice.

The thought of rebellion briefly crossed Saïx's mind, but he quickly dismissed it. True, he was probably the most powerful member of Organization XIII, aside from Xemnas. But there was still that one problem: "aside from Xemnas." The Superior was too powerful to be opposed, especially with a completed Kingdom Hearts on his side. Even Marluxia hadn't dared to stand against him without at least a three-to-one advantage.

Saïx was abruptly brought out of his thinking by a massive blow to his left arm. There was an audible _CRACK_, and through a cloud of agony he could see that it had been broken. He faced left, and found the source of his pain: Sora. Apparently, he had picked up the basics of claymore combat quickly.

Roaring in anger and agony, Saïx grabbed his upper arm, jerking it sharply and snapping it back into place. It would heal; the moonlight would speed it right along.

That was the other reason he couldn't move against Xemnas. Sora and the others threatened his survival, and this engagement would end with one of them dead. And if you weren't with Xemnas, you were against him.

Which, Saïx reasoned, racing for Sora and slamming his claymore into the ground again and again, was not a good place to be.

"_Besides, who knows what Xemnas can do with Kingdom Hearts? He might be able to find my heart, as a reward for my loyalty."_ It was the only logical course of action, Saïx concluded.

As he swung his claymore and missed yet again, his injured arm burning as the bone repaired itself, Saïx became increasingly confident in this decision. Kingdom Hearts was complete, as Xemnas had wanted, and there was no more need for Sora. The Keyblade master would die, Organization XIII would triumph, and one way or another Saïx would regain his heart.

Kingdom Hearts – the ever-present, ever-faithful moon – would make sure of that. Its power coursed through him even now, healing his wounds and giving him strength.

"_Wait a minute." _Sora had acquired another copy of his claymore, and was attacking with equal ferocity. That wasn't right.

Saïx was forced to abandon this thought for the moment, quickly moving to block Sora's attacks, attempting to keep from being struck with his own weapon.

It pained him, literally and figuratively, to realize that he was only partially successful in his endeavor.

Sora struck, screaming with the effort of lifting the claymore but making solid hits nonetheless, and Saïx was forced to take one step back, and then another as he blunted his foe's charge.

What had happened? In the time that Saïx had determined the direction his existence (or lack thereof) would take, Sora had _changed._ He was a veritable storm of power, drawing on some unknown strength to counter and then to attack, driving Saïx farther and farther back. This boy was determined to destroy him; contrary to Saïx's first impressions, he appeared to be capable of doing so.

Was it adrenaline? Or was the moon lending its aid to Sora as well?

Was this the end?

Saïx vowed that it would not be.

A wave of lunar destruction exploded outward from Saix's position as he summoned a burst of power, drawing heavily on the moon's light for support. The shockwave dissipated into blue flames, which burned out as Sora and company frantically regained their balance.

Saïx was right there with them, charging and smiting everything around him that dared to breathe without his permission.

_WHACK._ Goofy was sent sprawling, his shield the only thing that protected him from obliteration at the scarred Nobody's hands.

"_Where did Sora get this power? What could give him such strength?"_

_CLANG._ Saïx's claymore struck Donald's ornate staff, sending it spinning into a corner.

"_No mortal could possibly match my strength. Has the moon betrayed me?"_

_WHOOSH._ Saïx stood in the center of the room, and swung his claymore savagely towards Sora's chest with a force fully capable of shattering buildings.

Sora dropped to the ground. The claymore passed over his head, all but ripping the air apart and leaving a scar where it once was.

Saïx roared, raising his claymore high for an attack of unstoppable force. _"ALL SHALL BE LOST TO YOU!"_

Goofy was still recovering from Saïx's attack, Donald still retrieving his staff. Sora was alone.

But from his crouched position below the enraged, berserk Saïx, he found that it did not matter. Thinking quickly, he reversed his hold on his own claymore. With the sharp point of the hilt facing upward, Sora thrust it upward.

A choked, surprised cry was his response, and Sora looked up to see its source.

Saïx froze in mid-strike, the hilt of the claymore piercing his rib cage and sticking a foot out from his back. An expression of shock and horror was frozen on his face, choked, rapid breaths forcing their way in and out of his mouth.

"_Has this been allowed to happen?" _thought Saïx._ "Where was the moon?"_

The copy of Saïx's claymore vanished, leaving the real one in his hand. This, too, was not to last; in his moment of vulnerability, Saïx let it fall. It dissipated upon contact with the floor, the once-formidable weapon dissolving into darkness. Finding that he could move again, Saïx took a quick glance around. The moon was nowhere in sight. He turned around, agony eating at the hole through his chest. Kingdom Hearts seemed to loom larger in his vision than ever before, filling the window with its brightness, seemingly mocking his suffering as it hung in the midst of the eternal darkness of the sky.

Saïx took a step towards the window wall, and then another; he heard no movement behind him, and deemed this to be safe. The result would be the same no matter what.

As he drew closer to the glass, a series of questions came to his mind, the death throes of his consciousness as his form began to lose cohesion.

"_Why did I join the Organization in the first place?"_

"_What have I worked for, only to fail?"_

"_Why has the moon turned against me so close to victory?"_

Saïx was now right up against the window wall, staring sadly for one final time at his beloved Kingdom Hearts – at his last hope for existence. He knew he should hate Sora for what was happening, but found that apathy prevented it. Darkness swirled about him, growing and multiplying like flames, fueled by his body. As he reached a dying hand for the great heavenly heart, his tortured, despairing mind streamlined all his questions into one. This passed his lips in his final moments, a final plea for the world's only true light:

"Why…Kingdom Hearts…Where is my heart?"

But no answer would come. Saïx closed his eyes, the brightness of the moon burned into his failing vision, a lingering monument to his defeat. It was little comfort to him as the darkness claimed its prize.

---

So I open up my email, and what do I find but **_TEN_** new reviews. I can't tell you how wonderful that was to see! Thanks go out to - and all the other readers for reading, liking, and putting little numbers by "Inbox." This happens to be one of the most fun things I've done, and it's really exciting to see others enjoying it.  
Axel and Demyx should be up before the end of the month; if not, you have permission to put me on the hitlist of your choice.  
By the way, I was reading freaky-hanyou's "What If," which is a _hilarious_ KHII fic based on "what ifs" from the reviewers. It made me believe in AkuRoku, and if you don't already you will too. Go read!  
Oh, in a similar vein, I want to do another Organization XIII fic after this one. Ideas?  
Remember that little Review button right next to the Favorite/Story Alert button, and drive safely!

Love and thanks to all the readers

Zellarius Burvenia


	8. Fire

Betwixt and Between: the crossroads of all that does and does not exist. If Kingdom Hearts was the heart of all worlds, it was this ethereal infinity that served as its circulatory system. It ran parallel to everywhere and everything, a central hub for the Corridors of Darkness. After the World that Never Was, it was quite possibly the most corrupted place one could hope to visit.

"_Guess I'm movin' up in the worlds."_

A shadowy portal opened, spilling clouds of darkness and a beleaguered Flurry of Dancing Flames into the opalescent terminus. Axel's cynical reassurances, his cloak, and his fire were all that was left to him, and he knew this well. For the last few days, he had been on the run from the remnants of Organization XIII, and just minutes ago he had confirmed that he could not hide from them in their own city.

"_Yeah, why'd I pull that to begin with? Xemnas _knows _things. I suppose that's why every door led back to Memory's Skyscraper."_

As Axel picked himself up off the ground (_"Looks exactly like everywhere else. Damn, I hate this place."_), a Dusk fell from some undefined point above him, sending him sprawling. It spent a second or two gnawing on his ear; then its silvery body slowly started to turn red. It spasmed, backflipping off of Axel's head and running in circles before burning to death from the inside.

Axel tested his legs, found he could stand, and cast a quick glance back at the burning remains of the Nobody, already fading into nothingness.

At this point, two thoughts were at the forefront of his mind.

Thought first: _"Another one. They probably figured I'd try this way. Can't hide forever."_

Thought second: _"Shit, that's fun."_

Axel stumbled, flailing his arms wildly to keep his balance. _"But I better keep it to a minimum. I'm running on empty anyway."_

Organization XIII's Number VIII sighed, smiled sadly, and started walking. Where he would go wasn't the issue. All that mattered to him was moving. The more he stayed in one place, the faster everyone else would find him.

Apparently, however, this logic did not apply to Dusks. Every few seconds, one would appear, and every few seconds Axel would either incinerate it or use his chakrams to separate them from their limbs. They came with increasing frequency, too – Axel soon found himself pursued by about fifteen of them.

Despite his aches and fatigue, Axel pursued, wringing more power from the nothingness that comprised him to keep his energy up and stay on his feet. _"I've been ignoring my limits for days – a few more minutes won't hurt."_

In all the time Axel had been fleeing the Organization, once it became clear that Xemnas had condemned him as a traitor, physical pain hadn't really registered anyway. The Dusks would leap back and forth for a swipe or two, and a couple of times a berserker had knocked him into a wall, but Axel never failed to pop back up, chakrams blazing.

More than his natural healing, it was desperation that kept him alive. For obvious reasons, of course – the lesser Nobodies had been ordered to kill him on sight. But he was also running out of time to fulfill what had become his highest priority.

Not standing and fighting – the Organization was all over that.

Not finding his heart – now that Xemnas had gone off the deep end building that stupid moon, the Organization's goals had shifted away from that. _"Eh. I'm used to this anyway. It means I don't need blankets."_ Axel allowed himself a small smirk, snapping his fingers and making a pair of Dusks violently explode.

No, his highest priority had been the same thing for the last year: finding Roxas.

The smirk quickly disintegrated, and so did four more unlucky Nobodies behind Axel.

It had been so simple: find Sora, grab his heart, get Roxas back. _"And why should anyone else care? Thanks to him, eight of us are gone. I'm doing Xemnas a big damn favor."_

As often happened, however, Sora had higher things in store. _"Something about Xemnas needing him to help with Kingdom Hearts. Release Heartless, Sora kills, hearts come back. Lather. Rinse. Repeat. And for what? Something that only Xemnas knows what it does?" _Axel's form blurred as he shifted left; three Dusks that had leaped for him found themselves sailing through empty air, right into a pillar of flame.

"_Bull. Xemnas is doing this for Xemnas. He's _been_ doing this for Xemnas. And none of us saw it coming."_

This last thought might not have been accurate, of course; Axel supposed Saïx and the other higher-ups might have guessed something. But what did it matter now?

Roxas was still out there.

That was the only pain Axel had really felt: not physical, but almost…_"Emotional? Impossible. Nobodies don't do emotions."_

But how else could he explain what he felt every time he fell asleep, forced to concede the day to the endless search for his best friend? What he felt when he thought of what Xemnas would do to him if he caught up to him first?

_Leap. Whoosh. FWOOM. "Axel 837, Dusks 0."_

The Organization's number one rule was that traitors died. If Xemnas got his hands on Sora's heart, Roxas wouldn't even have time to open his eyes when he came back.

"_I'm a dead man walking. I'll be damned if I let Roxas go the same way."_

But in order to find Roxas, he had to find Sora. And if Axel knew him, he was already here, or nearby.

"Take this!"

Axel chuckled. "Damn, I'm good."

Sora was here, of course, Donald and Goofy flanking him. The Keyblade danced through the air, bringing down two or three Dusks per strike. The sheer volume of enemies was stunning – there had to be at least fifty surrounding Sora and company. Goofy and Donald cast spells and defended their charge wherever they could, but it was clear the Nobodies were wearing them down.

Sora fought on, either unaware of or unwilling to believe this, and Axel was content to watch, disposing of the odd Dusk circling him. _"He's held Roxas hostage for months. Why not let him handle it? I can finish him off then."_

But Axel couldn't help but wonder at Roxas's condition. For all he knew, he was still somewhere in Sora's heart, asleep – or was he?

Could he hear everything Sora heard? See what he saw?

Feel what he felt?

A Dusk took a swing at Sora. Its claw, forged from nothingness, didn't cut him – it _vaporized_ the skin it touched, leaving a free-flowing cut across Sora's cheek. He screamed in pain, throwing the Keyblade at his assailant, and Axel could almost swear he heard Roxas's voice somewhere in there.

Sora retreated, back to back with Donald and Goofy as the Dusks advanced. "It's no use!" he cried.

Every syllable cut Axel as deeply as that Dusk had cut Sora. Roxas _was _in there, somewhere. What kind of friend would leave him there?

"_A crappy kind of friend, that's what. One that hasn't driven himself crazy for months looking for him. End of the road, Axel!"_

Axel sighed. They needed him. Roxas needed him.

"Don't stop moving, or the darkness will overtake you!" he called.

Sora, Donald, and Goofy had barely turned around to see where the voice was coming from when Axel was flying. Fifteen feet in the air he jumped, his biggest exertion over the past few days, landing hard on his feet. A tiny _snap_ announced itself from his increasingly fragile ankles, but Axel gritted his teeth and ignored it. Two chakrams to the nearest Nobodies' heads took his mind off the pain. In that moment, it dawned on Axel what he was to do with the rest of his nonexistence.

"_No use postponing things. They've got me. I stand and fight, Sora gets a shot at the Organization, Roxas has a chance to live. You better appreciate this, kid."_

Axel returned his focus to his surroundings once more, locking eyes with Sora. The resemblance was uncanny; had Axel been able, he probably would have teared up at the sight.

"Get goin'!"

Sora was incredulous; why was Axel helping him? "Why?"

"…_The _hell? _I'm saving your lives!" _Axel bit back this retort. "Don't ask. Just do it!" He had barely finished his sentence before another Dusk knocked him to the ground. _"I must be in worse shape than I thought. Those things couldn't touch me before."_

Axel felt two more Dusks pile on to him, fighting each other for a scrape at his back; the weight was instantly removed when Sora cleared them off for him. "You okay?" asked Sora frantically.

"_Glad to see we're on the same page."_

"I kidnapped Kairi, but she got away from me." There was the bait. "After that, Saïx caught her. He's a member of Organization XIII. Saïx. Got it memorized? Now go save her!"

It was done. Sora was on the right track. Axel glanced around to get a feel for the battlefield. The Nobodies were circling, unsure of what to do now that the four had joined forces. Donald and Goofy held off three each behind Sora.

_Fwssh._

A Dusk fell out of a portal in midair, angling toward Sora. Axel was about to call out and warn him when Sora whipped around, Keyblade flashing. Half a second later, the Nobody was gone.

Sora held his Keyblade at the ready, daring the Dusks to attack. "Leave us alone!" he shouted defiantly.

A wicked grin crossed Axel's face. _"Oh, this'll be good."_ He stood beside Sora, chakrams ready. "I'll take you all out!"

So it began.

---

Sora and Axel flew in opposite directions, subconsciously splitting the horde in two. Not for the first time, it occurred to Axel how hard it was to fight at a massive numerical disadvantage. Dusks were everywhere – coming at him from the sides, slithering around his feet to sever his tendons, falling from the sky.

"_All this effort to get to me. I'd be flattered, if it didn't hurt so much."_

That was interesting – he could actually feel the Nobodies chipping away at him now. One got under him, hacking at his legs, and another was clawing at his back. It stung, true, but not as much as it should have.

"No you don't!" Axel threw off the one on his back, catching its foot and impaling it with both chakrams at once. He stepped on the one below him, and did the same; a concentrated burst of fire incinerated them both.

"_Well, it was Roxas that kept me going. Now that I found him, I can start focusing on me."_ Axel cast a wall of fire, mowing down twenty more Dusks and cartwheeling to the next group. He wobbled slightly mid-cartwheel; even his healing was slowing down.

"_Then let's make this one hell of an ending."_

Axel carved his way through the battlefield, burning, stabbing, and kicking at every flash of white. Dozens of Dusks fell as he laid waste to all that moved. He was the true embodiment of fire: merciless, all-consuming, and always ready for more.

About as much time was spent fighting the Dusks as was spent watching Sora fight. The Keyblade master was a machine, systematically ruining the Nobodies with the help of Donald and Goofy. He was the water to Axel's fire; where Axel blazed through endless Nobodies, laughing as they crumbled beneath his assault, Sora flowed like a river, slipping between enemies and striking them down faster than they could move. He was almost superhuman, and Axel couldn't help noticing how much of Roxas he saw in him.

"_It's almost like we're together again. One last big fight before Xemnas calls us for dinner." _Axel thought, a smile spreading across his face. This was the most fun he'd had in a long time.

It was smooth sailing for the first minute or so, and then things got rough. More and more Nobodies poured through the empty air, filling the surroundings with white as Dusks marched to the Organization's Public Enemies #1 and #2. Donald and Goofy were lost in the mass of attackers, killing enemy after enemy and making little progress.

Sora and Axel cut down a few more on their respective sides, then backed up against each other. They were at the center of the fighting, surrounded by at least seven hundred Dusks. They could fight, but not for much longer.

Axel took a deep breath, then chuckled. "I think I liked it better when they were on my side." Six Dusks circled, closing the distance with each passing second.

Sora lowered his Keyblade, casting a sidelong glance at Axel. "Feeling a little…regret?" he asked sarcastically.

Another chuckle. _"Same old Roxas."_

Axel pondered Sora's question. He thought back to when he first joined the Organization, how crazy it drove him at first to feel absolutely nothing. He remembered slowly adapting, finding common ground with some of the other neophytes, but never really relating with any of them. Until Roxas arrived.

How long would he have survived without someone to talk to? Not Xemnas. Nobody went to him for entertainment. Xigbar was cool, but usually pretty condescending. So was Xaldin, come to think of it. Vexen and Zexion were too busy fighting and studying to be any fun. Lexaeus spent all his time training. Saïx…well, the less said about him, the better. Demyx was a pansy, Luxord was a jerk, Marluxia was vain as all hell. He had toyed with the idea of some relationship with Larxene – if not an emotional one, at least for purely physical pleasure. _"Kingdom _Hearts,_ I missed that."_ But it wasn't to be. She was false – a mere ghost of what Axel once had. She never screwed with any of them anyway – just their minds.

Roxas had done what Larxene could not: made Axel remember what it was like to be whole. He'd been his only friend in the Organization, and an unforgettable part of him. As the Nobodies closed in, Axel decided on his last favor for him.

"Feeling a little…regret?"

Axel's mouth: "Nah…I can handle these punks. Watch this!"

Axel's mind: _"Nope. Can't say I do."_

Axel sprang away from Sora, into the sea of Dusks. Several lunged for him, but were blasted back. Axel raised his arms, setting his chakrams spinning in the air around him. The Dusks that attacked were killed instantly. Axel was on a roll; they stood no chance at touching him.

He was surprised at how comfortable he felt with the idea of death. Feeding this last attack with all his power was a pretty painful way to go, but it was better than being turned into a Dusk. He'd always hated those things.

The chakrams stopped on either side of him, spinning like the wheels on a racecar and blazing uncontrollably. Axel felt his body being lifted as he lost control of his power, felt the last of his healing potential be consumed by the relentlessly building attack. He suddenly felt hot all over – not the pleasant warmth he was accustomed to, but a burning sensation across every inch of his skin. Axel was on fire, his very nonbeing becoming fuel for this grand finale.

And yet, he found he didn't mind. What he suffered he suffered for Roxas, to make sure his best friend survived. That, he felt, was worth any price.

Pillars of flame erupted on all sides. Axel exploded, fire pouring from his body in terrifying gouts of death.

"_Live that dream, Roxas! See you in the darkness!"_

He screamed, an insane roar of agony and victory, joy and friendship.

---

Sora uncovered his eyes, looking around in awe at the churning oblivion of Betwixt and Between. The Nobodies were gone, all of them, and none came forth to challenge them. Goofy and Donald lowered their weapons, struck by the same amazement.

"Whoa!" That was all Sora could think to say. He had seen a lot of amazing things since he left the Destiny Islands, but nothing quite like this.

As his eyes adjusted to the still-bright view, he saw a patch of night in the middle of it all.

This was Axel, darkness drifting like smoke from his burned, ruined body.

Sora ran to him, kneeling, and unable to believe what was happening. "You're..fading away…"

Axel lay on the ground, every cell of his body crying out in pain, but forced a smile nonetheless. "Well, that's what happens when you put your whole being into an attack. You know what I mean?" It was a matter-of-fact statement, as if his death was just another footnote in Ansem's textbooks.

"_Whoops. Scratch that." _"Not that Nobodies actually _have_ beings…right?" he corrected himself mirthlessly. Axel's time was short, and he knew it. The smoke from his body had become mixed with dark ashes, as his form fragmented and began to dissipate. If he were to finish his job, it would have to be quick. He turned to look Sora in the eyes.

"_I'm wasting his time. What I do I do for him."_ Axel was silent for a moment, then found the strength to speak again. "Anyway, I digress. Go, find Kairi." _"Aren't I forgetting something?"_ Axel reminded himself. "Oh, almost forgot…sorry for what I did to her."

Sora remained sympathetic. "When we find her, you can tell her that yourself."

"_Good old ray of sunshine. I'll miss you, kid." _Axel turned his head, looking up again. He knew he was dead, and he was pretty sure Sora knew it too.

"Think I'll pass. My heart just wouldn't be in it, you know? Haven't got one." A chuckle. _"Nope, no regrets."_

Sora nodded solemnly. "Axel, what were you trying to do?"

"_Why not tell the truth? Might as well do one more good thing to make up for it all."_

"I wanted to see Roxas."

The smoke and ashes were thicker now; the darkness consumed Axel's body still faster.

"He…was the only one I liked…he made me feel…like I had a heart."

"_Should I tell him? Does he know?"_

"It's kind of…funny…" The darkness was moments from his core; seconds remained.

"_Not enough time."_

"You make me feel…the same…"

"_**Not enough time."**_

Axel closed his eyes, then opened them, piercing Sora with a last purposeful gaze.

"Kairi's in the castle dungeon. Now go."

With a laborious effort, Axel raised his left arm. A portal to the World That Never Was flickered, then held. Axel relaxed, the last of his power gone.

"_What's left of me will save him. That's all I need."_

The darkness swarmed over Axel's body, greedily feasting on the Flurry of Dancing Flames in his moment of clarity.

Sora was almost speechless. "Axel…"

Axel couldn't hear him. The darkness scattered, then faded, taking his body with it.

To any uninitiated observer, Axel's death would have been infuriating – someone so noble deserves far better, they would say.

In the end, Axel didn't mind. He owed Roxas for that falling out they had in Twilight Town - for having to endure the life sentence that was nonexistence. His sacrifice was his apology and his atonement – the giving of one's life for a dear and only friend.

* * *

First and foremost, I'm sorry this took so long. I was busy most of late July, helping put on a full-scale production of High School Musical in two weeks, 9-5 each day, which is tiring as all hell (I played Zeke, by the way.) Also, mere days after I got home, my grandmother finally died at 79, losing her fight with Alzheimer's and necessitating a return to Texas for the funeral. Combine that with school starting here in Georgia, and you've got an environment not exactly conducive to writing. I hope to get more done more often, but now that school's in session there's no guranteed schedule. Again, I apologize, and I wish every one of you the best in life.

Love and thanks to all the readers

Zellarius Burvenia


	9. Water

To Demyx above all others, the sewer system of Hollow Bastion was one of the worst places in all the worlds to be in. Water flowed everywhere, but it was desecrated, filthy, and shackled by the dank and disgusting walls which confined it. _"Ugh! Glad I remembered that last part,"_ thought Demyx, quickly straightening from his leaning position and looking Xigbar in the eye. "Why me? Why do I have to track Sora down?"

Other than "What happened to your eye?", that was the worst question for Demyx to have asked. Xigbar was in a dangerous mood today – not that the innocent observer could tell from his attitude. One had to have served under him in Organization XIII to know that he tended to crack more jokes and act more laid-back as he became angrier. It was a deadly trap for the neophytes (including, on more than one occasion, Demyx), who hadn't yet learned and would mistake the Freeshooter's mood, egging him on. By the time Xigbar crossed the barrier between the extremes of sarcasm and hostility and the smirk left his face, it would already be too late.

This was the situation Demyx faced, his query having pushed his superior over the edge. _"It's a valid question. I don't see why Saïx couldn't do it. He's a lot better at fighting, and-EEK!"_

Demyx's thoughts were cut off when Xigbar disappeared, quickly reappearing behind him, grabbing him, and thrusting his top half under the running water. Granted, Demyx could breathe underwater, but it was the shock of the sudden attack and the filth of said water Xigbar had been focusing on. Demyx struggled against the other Nobody's grip, desperately trying not to breathe in the unspeakably awful depths.

After what seemed an eternity, Xigbar pulled Demyx out of the river of sewage and spun him so the two were eye to eye. "Let's get a few things straight, waterboy. I sent you to strike a deal with Hades. What happened?"

Demyx quivered in Xigbar's iron grip. "I didn't?" he squeaked.

The sewage again. Thirty seconds later, Xigbar pulled a spluttering and frightened Melodious Nocturne from the water and held him off the ground, at eye level. "You took one look at that glorified zombie and ran. Then you found Sora and ran again." Demyx hung his head, ashamed. _"Hades laughed at me. At least I tried…"_ Xigbar dropped him on the concrete walkway, looking down on him disapprovingly. "See, in the Organization, we frown on that kind of thing. And when I say 'we,' you should think 'me.' I don't want to be the guy that hauls cowards from world to world. I do that, I start to wonder whether you're more of a liability than an asset." Xigbar fixed Demyx with a one-eyed glare that drilled straight through the young Nobody's chest. "And man, I bet you'd hate to be a liability."

Demyx simply nodded, shrinking back against the wall, not caring that he was getting splashed. A little magic, and the water curved away from him. "Just tell me what I need to do."

Xigbar chuckled, pacing through thin air over the running water. "I already did. Get to Sora, liberate the true disposition, all that jazz. Only this time you do it right, or I find a polluted lake for you to swim in. We clear?"

Demyx lowered his gaze to the water, pitying again the sorry state of his element. Finally, he whispered "Crystal," just loud enough for Xigbar to hear.

He heard a whooshing and popping as air was displaced; suddenly Xigbar teleported in front of him, grabbing Demyx's chin roughly and forcing him to look into his single yellow eye.

"Didn't catch that," Xigbar whispered menacingly.

Demyx struggled for a moment, then went limp. "Crystal," he sighed, louder this time.

Xigbar smiled. "I'm glad we had this talk. I feel like I accomplished something, you know?" He threw Demyx to the ground, and summoned a portal of darkness. "You should try it sometime," he added with a smirk, right before he disappeared.

---

Demyx lay crumpled on the sewer floor for a few moments longer, shivering and trying to shut out the trauma of the preceding minutes. _"Xigbar's gone. The man with the guns can't hurt me. I'm alone in these sewers."_ In the back of his mind it occurred to him that he shouldn't fear Xigbar; as a Nobody, such emotions were beneath him. But even from a purely logical standpoint, Xigbar was excellent at threats, and the memory of fear – what his Other's response to the situation would be – haunted him every time the one-eyed Nobody crossed his mind. It almost seemed right to respond in such a way to Xigbar's coercion. His taunting grin heralded a not-so-secret enjoyment in making Demyx squirm.

Eventually, Demyx regained control of himself, and carefully rose to a standing position. With a final exhausted glance at the water, he turned and began to follow its path. He didn't know where exactly it would take him; Xigbar had brought him here seemingly on a whim, and hadn't bothered to tell him which way was out. _"Nothing's stopping me from using a portal…no. I need to clear my head."_ Demyx shuddered, and continued on.

Since he had joined Organization XIII, Demyx had had an increasing sense of his own insignificance. As Myde, he'd had a few friends, surfed occasionally and played a few decent bars in Kauai. _"I went through so many sitars in those days. Stupid dog – Scratch, or Fitch, whatever his name was_." It wasn't much, but at least he'd had a life.

Then the darkness had come, and the islands had fallen. But Demyx had not.

"_Why is that, I wonder? I lost my heart…but kept my body. That and my sitar."_

And that, Demyx surmised, passing through an intersection in the catacombs of waste, was an even greater mystery. Why had he kept his music? Was nonexistence always this way? Did it leave you with a single defining characteristic of who you once were, taunting you with your former life?

"_If that's true, Xigbar must have been some kind of hitman."_

It certainly would explain his title. The Melodious Nocturne – he'd always liked that. It had a suitably musical ring to it; fitting, because his music was all that was left to him. Hawaii was gone, his family and friends long consigned to the darkness. From the moment he awoke on the streets of the Dark City, Organization XIII had owned him.

Demyx paused, leaning against a wall and closing his eyes. _"All they want is to help. All we want are our hearts. That's what they said."_ Then why did the superiors – Xemnas and Xigbar and all the rest – treat him this way?

"_Maybe I'm just no good. I can't fight. I can't plan. I can't even defend myself from the others."_ Demyx slammed his fist into the wall, sighed, and marched on. Xigbar had given him an order, and that was that.

"_That's all I really am to them, isn't it?" _he thought. _"An errand boy. An afterthought. What good am I after they get their hearts back?"_

As Demyx continued down the tunnel and with his train of self-defeating thought, it occurred to him that the sound of rushing water was growing louder. He looked up from the ground, seeing a dim light growing in intensity as the water crescendoed. _"Just a little farther. Then maybe I can do something worthwhile."_

In another minute or so, Demyx reached the mouth of the sewer tunnels, and with it the light of high noon. Looking around, he found himself at the edge of a hole, set in a cliff far below Hollow Bastion. The view was breathtaking; royal blue plains and mountains stretched as far as the eye could see and farther, with the immense castle of Villain's Vale looming out of the Dark Depths far beyond.

Below, Demyx saw a mass of black swarming over the blue: the Heartless army, laying siege to the horrendously undermanned town. The local militia defended the Bastion valiantly, led by Cloud, Leon, and the rest of their band, but nothing could change the fact that they were fighting a losing battle. Pinpricks of red rose up from the battlefield, as Heartless were destroyed and their hearts escaped. But for every Heartless defeated, five more swarmed forth. With his enhanced Nobody vision, Demyx saw Cid beating down a regiment of Samurai Nobodies with a sharpened broom, before ordering a retreat to the Crystal Fissure.

"_It's amazing!" _Demyx suddenly felt himself thinking. _"Look at it! If the Heartless are defeated, their hearts make Kingdom Hearts stronger. But if we win, the Organization reclaims its original lands!"_

He stopped himself almost as soon as he thought this. "What am I saying?" Demyx whispered. He wasn't even from the Radiant Garden – that was the six superiors. He didn't even know what Kingdom Hearts was supposed to do – only Xemnas did.

"_This isn't me. This is what they want me to be."_

Demyx was stunned by this epiphany, so much so that for several seconds he didn't move. _"I've been going about this all wrong. I wasn't working with Organization XIII – I was working _for _it. I was their whipping boy, their royal fool, their bit-"_

Suddenly, a flash of black and silver on the cliffs caught his eye. Xigbar, come to punish him for falling behind? _"Odd. I'm usually more afraid…" _Indeed, Demyx had been struck with a sudden clarity, one that seemed to shut out all doubt and fear. _"No, wait – Xigbar would come up behind me, and-"_

An explosion cut off his thoughts, sending him stumbling. Demyx flailed his arms, frantically struggling to regain his balance. The noise of the explosion, however, faded into a deep rumbling, as a minor earthquake set off by whatever had happened shook Demyx's surroundings. With nothing to hold on to, Demyx slipped, screamed, and fell.

---

Wind. Blue. Panic. That was Demyx's entire world throughout his fall. He twisted to see what was passing him by, and nearly fainted as he saw the too-shallow lake below Hollow Bastion rushing toward him, beneath Merlin's permanent cleansing circle cast to purify the town's water. Demyx was unable to think coherently for the next few seconds, his thoughts a jumbled mass of shock.

Then he found the black-and-silver blur once more, and everything was clear.

It wasn't Xigbar at all. It wasn't even a Nobody.

It was Sora.

The Keyblade master carved his way through hordes of Heartless as he reclaimed the cliffs for the Bastioners, aided by Donald and Goofy. This was Demyx's objective. This was the person his nonexistence depended on. The key to – what, exactly? He didn't really know what they meant by "liberate his true disposition." Something to do with Roxas, perhaps? Demyx pondered this for a fraction of a second, and had another epiphany.

"_What if it doesn't happen?"_

It was the first rebellious thought Demyx had had in years of suffering under the Organization. He'd fight Sora. He'd prove himself to the others – make them see he meant business – and then trade Sora's "true disposition" for a little respect. Even better – he'd ask for a promotion! Demyx imagined Xigbar begging on his knees, and smiled.

Then he remembered that he was still falling. "Dance, water, dance!" With this perfectly timed cry, the water below him surged upward in an unstoppable geyser, halting his fall and allowing Demyx to stand, the liquid forming a stable surface. It was a few seconds before he found Sora again, but Demyx wasted no time in getting to him. One corridor of darkness later, the geyser collapsed, and Hollow Bastion's sewer system ran as it had.

---

Sora, Donald, and Goofy descended the stairs from the ruined Bailey, having finally cleared the town of Heartless. Beyond the cliff they now found themselves overlooking, a sea of Heartless advanced across the Great Maw. Their day had only begun.

Suddenly the darkness leaped up to the mosaic that covered the ground in front of them, as a portal split the air in two. Sora and company stopped in their tracks, immediately on guard. The black-and-violet oval enveloped the other side of the mosaic in darkness, soon dissipating and leaving Demyx behind.

"_I'm here!...What now?"_ Demyx's plan to take control of his nonexistence was, admittedly, attractive, but the trip through the portal hadn't given him a lot of time to figure it out. _"Maybe a quick one-liner to show them who they're dealing with…"_ Demyx opened his mouth, but nothing came to him except a strangled "Ngh." It was the sound of something brilliant killed in infancy, he just _knew _it. He sighed in frustration. _"Man, I screwed up already?"_ Casting a furtive glance across the cliff, Demyx saw Sora raise an eyebrow, waiting for something to happen. Inwardly rolling his eyes, Demyx straightened, deciding on "Hey, you guys are looking lively." _"It'll have to do…"_

Donald wasn't nearly as friendly. "Scram!"

Sora, however, was slightly more articulate. "Didn't we catch you messing around in the Underworld? How'd a wimp like you get into Organization XIII?"

"_He remembers! Think, think, think…" _Demyx attempted a mocking gesture or two, but only managed a quick gasp as words failed him and he instinctively cowered. Sora's aggressive tone brought back flashbacks of Xigbar's punishments, causing Demyx's breathing to quicken. Almost as soon as he started shivering, Demyx stopped. _"Oh, quit that! You're a new Nobody now. Act like it!"_ Tentatively, he faced Sora again.

But Sora was unimpressed. "I bet you can't even fight." Donald was right there to back him up: "Yeah, but we can!"

This offended Demyx slightly – moments ago, he had proven to be quite skilled in water manipulation. This time, he was able to counter them with a touch more bravado. "You shouldn't judge anyone by appearance," he stated loftily. The strength of his words was exciting to wield, and Demyx found himself gaining more confidence.

The first real test of it came immediately. Sora, Donald, and Goofy drew their weapons, moving to fighting stances in a nonverbal challenge.

"_Whoa! Let's back up a minute…" _Demyx flinched, turning the movement into a halfhearted shimmy to hide his faltering resolve, and then about-faced. For a moment, he was the Organization's whipping boy again, on another mission he was sure to fail. "Ohhh...I told them they were sending the wrong guy…."

"_Wait a minute. Have you forgotten your plans?" _Demyx chastised himself.

Sora was momentarily off guard, more confused than alert. "Who is this kook?"

"_Are you a Melodious Nocturne or a mouse?"_

"Remember, the Organization's made up of Nobodies," Goofy offered.

Sora nodded, not really sure how this helped, but comfortable in the knowledge. "Right – no hearts!"

"_You control water! That's everywhere! Are you just giving up after – _excuse _me?"_ Demyx was snapped out of his internal conflict by Sora's words. Grudgingly, he had to concede the point to him. Demyx didn't have a heart, but that didn't mean he had to like it. _"So why not make that part of the charade?_ _Might as well make up for 'Hey, you guys are looking lively.'"_ In keeping with his train of thought, Demyx affected an offended tone, casting an exasperated glance in Sora's direction. "Oh, we do too have hearts! Don't be mad…"

The Keybladers were unmoved, and Donald voiced their suspicion: "You can't trick us!"

At once the color drained from Demyx's face – purely on instinct, though Demyx had to admit this development was irritating. Deciding to stall for a few more seconds, he turned again and ran through his options for the situation.

"_Okay, they're on to me. Let's see…I made a fool of myself, made them think I can't fight, and probably embarrassed myself in front of Roxas. Just like me to screw up in front of a newbie."_ At that moment, Demyx was struck by a devious thought, and an equally devious grin flitted across his face. _"They don't think I can fight. I've got them _right_ where I want them."_

And with that, Demyx whirled, pointing a challenging finger at Sora.

"Silence, traitor."

Their reaction was beautiful. _Beautiful!_ Sora, Donald, and Goofy jumped at Demyx's uncharacteristically threatening demeanor, which thrilled Demyx to no end. _"All right! I'm not the one being intimidated this time! Let's keep it rolling…"_ Water seeped through the cracks in the ground, rising around Demyx in a dome shape. Carried along by a wave of empowerment, Demyx threw his hand up, catching the water in a ball of liquid power, which expanded into his treasured sitar. He spun it once, before planting his feet in a rockstar stance and flashing a winning smile. This was to be his magnum opus, his symphony of destruction, and today, the crowd would go wild.

---

Sora, Donald, and Goofy rushed Demyx almost immediately. His façade of mirth and his concentration were not broken in the slightest. With a roar of "Dance, water, dance!" and a powerful chord from his sitar, water flowed up through the ground and took the form of a hundred Demyx clones, sitars and all. As Demyx's hands glided smoothly across the strings, the Water Forms danced along with the music, twirling around and sliding past the boy, duck, and dog with the sound of crashing waves.

This had the dual benefit of shifting Sora's focus from Demyx and pitting him against a horde of merciless enemies. The Water Forms moved at Demyx's behest, extensions of the Nobody's will in a veritable web of music and violence. Though Demyx's eyes were closed, he saw the battlefield from a hundred different angles, and could easily take full advantage of the thirty-three or so from which he could attack each enemy. He felt powerful. He felt in control.

He felt _alive_.

Sora, on the other hand, found the threat of death multiplied a hundredfold, and was swarmed before he could comprehend it. Six Water Forms mobbed him, swinging sitars with the force of a tsunami and collapsing into puddles when he tried to counterattack, reforming tireless and whole behind him. Sora struck wildly, turning the space around him into a storm of metal and kicking feet, and Demyx couldn't help but dance along with his minions, as he saw the ridiculous scene a hundred times over in his head. Donald and Goofy were similarly beset, and Demyx's thoughts soon turned to Xigbar's shocked face as he returned to the Castle That Never Was victorious. _"I think I'll throw him Sora's body, and then when he catches it, I'll have its mouth blast him in the face with water, and-"_

Demyx frowned. Somewhere there had been a crash of water that did _not _sound like an impact against flesh. Returning his focus to the Water Forms, Demyx found that eight of his pairs of liquid eyes were blind. Demyx opened his own eyes, and was greeted with a shocking reversal of fortune.

Somehow, Sora and friends must have figured out the beat of Demyx's war song, for they were fighting just as fluidly as the Water Forms. It was almost like dancing, the way they attacked; a few times Sora even took a Form roughly by the arms, magically freezing it to maintain his grip and twirling it fatally through its comrades in a waltz of death. Demyx's army was crumbling by the second, and soon the Melodious Nocturne would stand alone.

Demyx narrowed his eyes, growled, and cut off his song. The remaining Water Forms lost cohesion, the water that had comprised them running back towards their master.

"_Guess you know that one. Time to change my tune."_ Demyx lamented the absence of his wit pre-battle, and then was all business.

Sora charged, leaping towards Demyx and flipping once – twice – three times, each spin adding more force to the Keyblade. Mere milliseconds from a hit, he was knocked skyward, as geysers erupted from the ground in an increasing circle around Demyx. Sora barely had time to right himself before he saw Demyx coming for him, riding a wave across otherwise solid ground and knocking Donald and Goofy aside. "C'mon, keep to the beat!" the Nobody taunted.

As Sora leaped to his feet and advanced, Demyx wondered for a moment whether his actions were truly his own. _"Of course I want to prove myself to the Organization. It's the only way I'll get any respect."_ Sora's Keyblade, slicing through the air inches to Demyx's left, gave him another good reason to win.

Demyx flipped over Sora, whacking him with his sitar while upside down and slamming him into the cliff wall bordering the battlefield. _"On the other hand, I'm being a little brutal, aren't I?"_ It was an immutable fact that Demyx hated fighting, and yet he took to it like a natural warrior.

"_Maybe I'm just not used to it,"_ Demyx considered as he summoned a waterfall to bear him gracefully to the ground. _"Sora _is_ the enemy, after all. And is anything too brutal for an enemy?"_

Demyx dodged a shield bash from Goofy, extinguished a fire blast from Donald, and blasted them both across the field with jets of water. _"Stop. That's Xigbar talking again."_ Demyx gritted his teeth, cursing himself for letting the Freeshooter get to him. Being a Nobody, he grimly noted, hadn't just robbed him of his heart – he had lost his ability to care for the well-being of others. In battle, he could be brutal and deadly, his leftover instinct of decency the only thing that could stop him.

Like right now. Demyx had let his runaway thoughts get the best of him, and before he could raise his sitar in defense he was assaulted on all sides by a flurry of Keyblade strikes. Water exploded from his position to drive Sora back, but not before Demyx suffered several bruises and a cracked shin.

Yelping in pain, Demyx summoned several balls of water, using his sitar to hit them at his attackers faster than they could blink. As Sora and company dodged the barrage of water, Demyx's shin healed, allowing him to walk without whimpering.

"_That's why I don't like to fight," _Demyx realized. _"I don't know what I might do."_

It wasn't out of concern for anyone else, of course. Demyx had lost that with his heart. But just like Nobodies retained the outward appearance of personality, as their instincts dictated, Demyx remained a reluctant warrior.

"_A coward," _he thought bitterly, shooting Donald up into the air with a geyser and causing a hard rain to fall on the combatants.

"_An honorable Nobody!"_ his gentler instincts countered, as he swept Goofy back toward the stairs with a tidal wave.

Sora threw his Keyblade at Demyx, knocking him down. The Keyblade returned to its master, who ran toward his dazed enemy, leaped, and swung for his torso.

"_Logically, neither, because without emotio-_AAAAGH!" Demyx screamed, his thoughts interrupted by a horrendous _CRACK_. He felt half the ribs on his left side snap like toothpicks, and rolled, his entire body seized with agony, to escape the source of the pain. The water that had pooled on the battlefield, undisturbed since Demyx had gone down, rushed to its master, shifting under him and lifting him to his feet. Demyx stood, nearly blind with pain, and sent the aiding water to kill.

It flowed from behind Demyx, striking Sora and stopping him in his tracks. Donald and Goofy rushed Demyx, but were flung into the walls by twin waves. The water attacking Sora trapped him in a bubble, cutting off his oxygen and causing the Keyblade master to grab his throat in a panic.

Demyx watched the scene with cold satisfaction, eager to see his oppressor perish. Sora slashed at the bubble with his Keyblade, but for every drop of water that fell from it more arrived.

Through his pain, Demyx wondered briefly why the Organization had sent him to kill Sora. _"Xemnas is making Kingdom Hearts out of a whole bunch of hearts, right? Doesn't Sora help when he kills Heartless? Why would they want him dead, even if Roxas would come back?"_

Sora fell to his knees, his strikes growing weaker, and an answer suddenly came. _"Maybe this is what they meant. Maybe they wanted to liberate _my_ true disposition." _Demyx stared at the struggling Sora, and shuddered. _"Is this my true disposition? Drowning someone where he stands?"_

The dull throb in Demyx's side caught his attention, and Demyx shook his head. _"I can't kill him like this. It would be just like Xigbar."_ Lingering on this thought for a second longer, Demyx snapped his fingers.

The prison of water collapsed, spilling Sora onto the ground. Sora gasped for air, pushing himself up with shaking, oxygen-deprived arms.

Demyx idly fingered the strings of his sitar as he healed and waited for Sora to rise. _"I'll do this like a gentleman. He deserves that much."_ As soon as Sora stood, he would attack once more, this time fairly.

He never got the chance.

Sora, still on one knee, took his Keyblade in hand and lunged for Demyx. Demyx's eyes widened as the boy shot toward him. _"No! Not like this!" _"DANCE, WATER, DAN-"

Before Demyx could finish his sentence, Sora stepped on the body of his sitar, jumping and hooking his legs around Demyx's neck. The two screamed – Demyx in shock, Sora in anger. Sora raised the Keyblade, and then brought it down, skewering Demyx through his lack of a heart. Demyx's scream was cut off with horrific suddenness.

Sora jerked his arms, pulling the Keyblade out of Demyx's back and standing on Demyx's shoulders. He backflipped, landed, and regarded the convulsing Nobody without pity as Donald and Goofy stood at his sides.

Darkness leaking from the hole through his body, Demyx fell to his knees, his sitar shaking in the tenuous grip of his left hand.

"_I blew it again…"_

This was the last coherent thought Demyx had time for. His sitar shimmered, dissolving into pure water and fading away in seconds. Demyx's horror suddenly overcame his pain, and he picked himself up. He brought his hand in front of him, unable to comprehend its emptiness. His music – all that he was – was lost to him.

"Ohhh, _noooo wayyyy_!" Demyx screamed, grabbing his head in a fit of anguish and defeat. He fell to his knees once more; the darkness spread greedily from the hole in his chest, devouring his entire body. His cry dissolved into a steadily weakening gurgle – not unlike a sob – as he drowned in it.

---

Howdy. Sorry this one took so long, but school started between Fire and Water, so I was a lot busier. More work to do, more things to study for, etc. Also, I kept putting it off for some reason even I can't understand. I'm just a procrastinator, I guess.

Oh well. Y'all are stuck with me.

I realize I'm taking a few liberties with how _exactly_ the Nobodies die, but that's because I really, really like death scenes. Uncomfortably so. There's nothing I enjoy more than the art of killing characters, and that's why Demyx died with a hole through his chest. I'm trying to keep it more or less with what you saw in the cutscenes, but from start to finish, all bets are off.

Speaking of bets, I'm sure you know who's up next. The Gambler of Fate will definitely die before Halloween, but that's all I can say with any certainty. In the meantime, keep those reviews coming!

Love and thanks to all the readers

Zellarius Burvenia


	10. Time

On what was to be Organization XIII's last desperate night, a great battle raged within the Hall of Empty Melodies. Spacious and silent as the name implied, the Hall was shaken to its foundations by Xigbar's last stand against Sora, Donald and Goofy. The Freeshooter, despite his mastery of the intricacies of space, folded under the assault of the Keybladers after a valiant struggle.

During this heroic altercation, thousands of bullets of concentrated nothingness were fired from Xigbar's trusty arrowguns; most impacted the invincible walls of the Castle that Never Was, and several more were to scar Sora and company. The rest were deflected back to injure Xigbar; much to his chagrin, Sora had apparently picked up the basics of teleportation in his travels across the worlds.

Three in particular would possess a greater destiny. Halfway through the fight, Xigbar collapsed all but the center section of the Hall's floor, and opened fire on the trapped Keybladers. Of the several hundred bullets involved, these three were returned by Sora. Xigbar teleported immediately thereafter, giving the red, softly glowing projectiles a clear path across the room. This path would lead them at a seventy-degree angle with the sharply reduced floor, through the massive windows that overlooked the balcony.

On the bullets would fly, as their master was beaten to death in the hall they had left behind; through the still, windless air of the World That Never Was, past the innumerable ivory towers of the Castle, until they reached their unusual destinations:

The ace of hearts, the ten of spades, and the seven of clubs.

---

High atop the precariously constructed balcony known as Havoc's Divide, a lone, black-cloaked figure stalked back and forth, muttering to himself. This was Luxord, the Gambler of Fate, and currently one of the four surviving members of Organization XIII.

_  
_"And bloody proud of it, if I do say so myself."

The blond, goateed Nobody paused in his pacing, about-facing and gazing down across the sea of white, nothing-forged metal that comprised the Castle's walls and towers. Three tiny red blurs sped directly toward him.

"_Ah, right on schedule."_

With this thought, the progress of the bullets seemed to slow tremendously, until their flight was merely a leisurely cruise upward. This was only from Luxord's perspective, of course; the projectiles moved as they normally would. But the increased reaction time granted to Luxord gave him ample opportunity to snap his fingers, summon three cards, and throw them spinning at Xigbar's bullets. Luxord's perspective sped up to a normal rate, and he watched, satisfied, as the weapons met in midair. Three flashes of red and gray caused muted pink light to play across the surface of the Castle, and immediately dissipated, as if they had never occurred. Luxord nodded, wasting little time with the clipped motion and allowing himself a smirk before he resumed his pacing.

Counterintuitive as it might seem, Luxord believed in making every second count. The loss of his heart had, after all, instilled in him an infallible sense of the passage of time. Every hour, every minute, every second passed through Luxord like a flowing river before his eyes, filling him with a colossal awareness of the impermanence of all things. With a mere glance at any given object – a boulder, a person, a flower – Luxord could know its entire life. His attunement to the endless march of time showed him how the relentless pace of eternity had made things what they were – altered them and worn them down – and what changes, if left undisturbed, were yet to come.

The fact that he himself was unaffected by the passage of time, of course, drove Luxord absolutely mad.

"_Ah, the ever-present tradeoff. There _are _two sides to everything, aren't there?"_ thought Luxord with a rueful smile. Organization XIII's Number X occupied himself with this reflection as he strode to the edge of Havoc's Divide. He stood on the razor's edge of doom, the front halves of his boots hanging over the side of the balcony as he gazed out across the neon-and-ebony vista of the Dark City.

More and more Luxord was reminded of his own insignificance – a facet of his nonexistence which was, in truth, more irritating than depressing of late. It had to be, or Luxord might be tempted to take a step beyond the balcony's edge.

He rolled his eyes, turning on his heel and striding along the precipice. _"Now, what would be the point of that?"_ he thought, ruefully watching the explosions of color, magic, and darkness through the distant windows of the Hall of Empty Melodies. _"I'm not a part of this…existence, for lack of a better word. It's an inherent quality of a Nobody, so there's little sense in fighting it."_

Ironically, Luxord found, being a Nobody – and subject to his current state's attendant sense of detachment and emptiness – was a perfect counter to any existential crises he might have had. True, it was almost maddening to not fully exist – to see the worlds change and thrive around oneself and stand there, a rock in a sea of endless possibilities, untouched by any of it. Not aging, not dying, not possessing the capability to enjoy a sunrise or mourn the death of a friend.

But it was that same emotionless state of being (_"Nonbeing, rather.")_ that kept the emptiness from gnawing away overmuch at one's mind. Just as a Nobody hung between the light and the darkness, so too did Luxord straddle the fence between total insanity and complete tranquility.

Then again, the natural practicality with which Luxord viewed his situation inevitably provided him with an ever-present question:

"_Now what?"_

That was why he had joined the Organization in the first place: to search for answers.

"_For example,"_ reflected Luxord, coming to rest on a corner of Havoc's Divide, _"how am I to reclaim my heart? Will the Organization help anything?"_ And, most importantly, _"How do I occupy myself until then?"_

The infinite reaches of the World That Never Was served as a haunting reminder of the disappointing answers to Luxord's questions. For like it or not, Luxord had spent the better part of his years as a Nobody wasting his time pursuing the answer to the first question. _"Not to hear Xemnas tell it, of course. But what did he ever care?"_

Ever since the fall of Castle Oblivion over a year ago, Luxord had had doubts about the Superior's priorities. True, the elimination of Marluxia and Larxene had been necessary; contrary to Vexen's beliefs, Marluxia and Larxene posed a serious threat to the Organization and thereby the operatives' reclamation of their hearts. Rank had nothing to do with power.

"_I'm living proof of that, aren't I? Number X, and yet here I am, one of the last four survivors." _But the weeding out of the traitorous elements had come at a great cost to the Organization; three of its loyal operatives, Vexen, Lexaueus, and Zexion, had been killed in the counterrevolution.

Far below, the light show in the Hall of Empty Melodies slowed and died down. Luxord could just see the darkness that was once Xigbar losing cohesion and disappearing, leaving nothing behind to suggest that a Nobody had once walked, fought, and died there. His lips twisted into an expression that could be very loosely defined as a smile. _"Make that three survivors."_

If Luxord were to answer his second question right now, using only the information at hand, it would be all too easy to say that his time with Organization XIII had been the worst choice on the road to his heart. Ever since Sora had awakened, Xemnas had been focused more and more on that insufferably silly Kingdom Hearts of his. _"It's as if he's been collecting every heart _other _than ours. At this point I might as well let him finish, then go out and pick mine up off the ground. Empty-headed old mad scientist."_

The massive, heart-shaped moon in the sky gazed disapprovingly down at Luxord as if to chastise him for his moment of dissenting thought – a constant reminder of his failure to see any of this coming. Luxord sat down on the corner of the balcony, returning an icy, exasperated glare of his own. Then he closed his eyes, feeling through the corridors of time to determine Sora's next course of action. Through a haze of uncertainty that sharpened with Sora's every step, Luxord saw that the boy was, of course, racing to ascend Naught's Skyway.

"_Which gives me a few minutes for introspection. Well, waste not, want not."_

Luxord's connection to time gave him a limited power to predict the future – but only based on the subject's likely actions. Sora could change direction any number of times, of course, but Luxord didn't bother to take into account those alternate outcomes. _"I _know _where he'll be headed if he gets to the Proof of Existence. My time may be short, and I'd best make the most of it."_

With this in mind, Luxord laid back, folding his arms behind his head and staring up at the moon. Briefly thinking that Saïx must be doing the same, he recalled his conversation with Xemnas yesterday morning (as well as morning could be defined in the eternal night of the World That Never Was):

---

Luxord had stopped in the Proof of Existence after a chat with Xigbar, in which he had offered to join forces against Sora should he make it to the castle. "Nah," Number II had respectfully declined, "I can handle him. I mean, I'm ranged, he isn't. I teleport, he doesn't. And seriously, at this point we don't know if we're getting our hearts back anyway. What have I got to lose?"

Luxord pondered that very question as he looked over his marker in the Proof of Existence, which recently had been converted to a portal to his quarters: Havoc's Divide, the great clock tower on the Castle's extreme edge. He remembered Axel's flight from the Castle, how he had laughed as he rained razor-sharp cards down on the fleeing Number VIII. It was a reminder of just how far he had come with the Organization, despite his misgivings about Xemnas's intentions. Whether he liked it or not, Organization XIII had become the one certainty in his disrupted existence. For that, Xemnas had at least his grudging gratitude.

He also remembered his little adventure in Port Royal – how he had left most of the work to the Grim Reaper, that Heartless maelstrom of avarice, while he spent his free time cleaning out the island colony's gambling dens. Which brought him back to the Organization once more, and how he had been forced to take his games of chance underground after Xemnas discovered him with half of the Intangible Treasury in his possession.

Beneath the quest for his heart, Luxord found that there was always an undercurrent of diversion – a desire to at least attempt to enjoy his nonexistence for as long as it lasted. Perhaps that was why he was who he was. Life's little games gave his situation meaning, however fleeting. And with time literally on his side, Luxord sought to minimize the headache of failing to exist. A man in his position, with unparalleled skill at gambling and having already lost his heart, would be faced with the same question Xigbar had posed: "What have I got to lose?"

"What, indeed," thought Luxord, summoning a portal of darkness. Seconds later, he had emerged in the Altar of Naught, the summit of the Castle's highest tower, to test this question and do the impossible: complain to the Superior.

Xemnas was, of course, in the same place he always was from morning until night. He stood gazing at the moon, watching it hungrily consume the hearts that rose to join it from all over the Dark City – from all over the universe. He was not in a mood to be disturbed.

Luxord, of course, couldn't have cared less. "Enjoying yourself?" he called across the Altar, with more than a hint of derision in his voice. Xemnas didn't turn around, didn't even move. "If that were possible, Luxord, I assure you I would be. State your business."

Smirking, Luxord complied. "I had an inquiry pertaining to our ultimate goal, actually. As we're in a position to conquer Twilight Town and the bordering worlds, I'd venture that the Organization has accomplished much indeed." He waited a second; when Xemnas didn't respond, he continued. "So I believe I am totally justified in asking how close we are to reclaiming our hearts."

Total silence from Xemnas.

"I mean, that is the original purpose of the Organization, is it not? Or have we moved on to greater things?" At this, Xemnas did turn his head, just enough to fix Luxord with a steel glare.

"_What have I got to lose?"_ Luxord indicated Kingdom Hearts, making his most dangerous move yet. "Far be it from me, of course, to criticize the Superior if he feels stargazing is the best use of our infinite resources."

Luxord couldn't tell, but he thought he saw the slightest hint of a snarl contort Xemnas's usually impassive face. Whatever it was, Xemnas's next words quickly drove it from his mind.

"In my thoughts I have seen a new order for the worlds. It is an order greater than any before or existing, greater than any individual," (Xemnas emphasized this last word) "or his petty pursuits. You would do well, Number X, to make sure you have a part in it." Xemnas returned to his original position, and spoke once more. "You will return to your quarters. I have nothing more to say to you."

Luxord stood still for a moment, saying nothing and considering what he had just heard. From what little Xemnas had said, it was clear that he was in his own world; even clearer that he wasn't open to debate. Luxord scoffed, twitched a finger, and stepped backwards through the ensuing portal.

The shock at stepping back into Havoc's Divide nearly sent him tumbling back through. The clock tower was gone, hundreds of feet of nothing-forged tower vanished into thin air. After recovering from the initial surprise, Luxord spat on the ground in annoyance and defeat. _"Xemnas created this world. It makes sense that he could do the opposite."_ If Luxord had a place in the new order, it was going to have to involve sleeping on the floor.

Needless to say, he got the message.

---

Times such as these would have sent Luxord immediately to the Gray Area, Organization XIII's spacious lounge, or to the Black Hole, his own personal casino for when the Superior was in a particularly watchful mood. To lose his entire quarters, to be deprived of yet another bastion of stability, to be told once more that he was nothing more than a shadow of what really mattered in the universe; such rebukes could only be countered by another pot won in a game of poker, another blackjack, snake eyes staring into his opponents' stunned faces as he smugly collected their earnings.

Victory was a refreshing commodity in an existence (such as it was) of endless defeat. Constant despair at the deprivation of his heart could never be fully negated, no matter how much munny he happened to find himself in command of. But Luxord would _take _it, damn it; if he couldn't enjoy the little things, what could he possibly have to live for? He wasn't one for combat; despite the small pleasure he had taken in chasing Axel down the Silent Highway, the thrill of the fight just wasn't his chosen method of entertainment.

A thought rose from the back of his mind: an alert, informing him of a new development. His reverie was interrupted by an announcement of Sora's presence in the time stream, in the castle, as the Keyblade Master entered the graveyard that was the Proof of Existence.

_"Well, martial engagements seemed to suit Xigbar, Xaldin and Lexaeus just fine. At this point, I'll have to make do."_ Luxord stood, casting a glance at the entrance to Havoc's Divide. He calculated about twenty-five seconds to act. _"Three to disappear, twenty to lie in wait, two to get the drop on him,"_ thought Luxord, disappearing into a portal and emerging on a ledge high above the balcony to look down on the soon-to-be battlefield. Sure enough, the entrance came to life with a swirl of blue light, illuminating Sora and company as they emerged. As the light died down, the band of warriors looked into the sky, at the great moon that dominated the night. A small beam was drilling into it from some unknown tower in the castle. _"So Ansem the Wise is already at work," _noted Luxord. _"Should ruffle the Superior's feathers, at the very least."_

The Keybladers talked amongst themselves for a handful of seconds, then turned to leave, apparently believing this to be a dead end. Luxord chose this moment to act, teleporting back down to Havoc's Divide behind the retreating heroes. It couldn't have started off better - in the time it took the completely surprised Sora to turn around, Luxord could have had a fistful of cards in his back like shuriken. _"But why squander my moment of glory?" _he decided.

Fixing Sora with a triumphant smirk, Luxord snapped his fingers. Before the sound had died away, ten massive cards appeared from nowhere, surrounding Sora's helpless friends. As they spun in a deadly circle around the group, Luxord glimpsed flashes of Kairi's panicked face, Riku's indignation, Donald and Goofy's shock. _"Icing on the proverbial cake," _he thought with wicked pleasure, snapping his fingers once more. The cards ceased their spinning, flying off in two regimented lines before dissolving into the castle walls. _"One on one, young man. House rules." _The rest of them could rot in one of Luxord's time bubbles, fighting endless waves of Gambler Nobodies.

Sora, surprisingly, did not ask what had happened to his companions; clearly, his battle instincts had been honed by months of near-constant warfare. "You!" he cried, summoning his Keyblade.

Luxord was well within his rights to enjoy this a little more - disappear a few more times, let Sora tire himself out, maybe taunt him a bit. But he was a gambler, after all - hungry for the next big win. Besides, it had been too long since he had had a serious opponent. _"Why delay it any longer?" _Luxord's arrogant expression mirrored his feelings, as did his response: "I'd rather we just skip the formalities."

---

And so were they skipped. Sora unleashed a war cry as he rushed his opponent, and Luxord let him approach. Mid-stride, however, Sora stopped. It had only taken a thought from Luxord, master of time and its relentless pace. An idea had struck him, and he wasn't about to let it go to waste. In half a second, Luxord mentally delved into Sora's life force and his own essence, and wove them into the threads of time. From this point onward, until the battle ended, they would be constantly under attack by time itself; each had three minutes to eliminate the other, or die instantly.

It was a foolish gamble, and Luxord knew this well. But it was also the single greatest thrill Luxord had yet encountered. _"What more can you gamble with than your very life?" _Looking into the future, however, had revealed two possibilities. In each, one combatant was victorious, and the other dead. _"It's all in fun, I suppose," _reasoned Luxord. _"If I win, I enjoy it as much as possible. If not..."_ Luxord's moment of doubt was fleeting. _"Then I die as I lived: wringing as much excitment out of this pitiful nonexistence as possible."_

Luxord unfroze Sora mere seconds after stopping him in his tracks. Sora nearly stumbled and fell, but regained his balance quickly and stood his ground, Keyblade at the ready for any more tricks. Luxord kept his smirk, and merely stated "The first to run out of time is the loser." Sora looked confused for only a moment, and a moment was all Luxord needed. Before Sora could shake it off and attack properly, Luxord struck first. With a wave of a hand, Sora collapsed, melting into a large cube shape: a die, Sora's shocked face on the "1" side.

_"All too easy," _Luxord thought, sweeping his hand in a broad arc and sending the Sora-die flying across Havoc's Divide. With a snap of his fingers, five cards flew after his victim, circling, diving, and slicing at every opportunity. Sora desperately tried to roll away from the relentless cards, and for a heart-stopping moment teetered on the edge of the balcony. The Dark City waited eagerly below to claim its helpless prize, and Luxord was struck with a pang of regret that this had passed so quickly.

Suddenly, the situation reversed itself. With surprising agility for a die, Sora tilted up onto a corner and spun, knocking the cards back and causing them to dissolve into nothingness. Before Luxord could cry out in protest, Sora launched himself at him, catching him full in the face and sending him stumbling back. Stars and hearts danced at the edge of Luxord's vision, and he tasted blood. Teleporting away, Luxord shook the dizziness from his head, spit out two teeth, and scoffed. "A challenge, is it?" _"Very well, a challenge you shall have."_

A snap of the fingers reverted Sora to his human form; after the boy regained his footing, he charged at Luxord, Keyblade extended. Luxord met his opponent with three cards as big as he was, striding confidently forth as they blocked Sora's attacks and slashed savagely back at him. It gave Luxord time to plan his next move. Sora leaped into the air, bringing his Keyblade down and chopping a card in half; another slash brought down a second card. Luxord brought the third one around to use as a shield; when the Keyblade pierced that, Luxord backflipped, and with a gesture froze Sora once more. Four cards appeared behind Luxord - three marked with an X, one with an O. Sora regained his freedom of movement just in time for them to begin cycling quickly from left to right. Luxord grinned maliciously. "Do you know the rules?" he taunted.

Thirty seconds had passed since the beginning of the fight; in the three seconds that the game lasted, Luxord had time to deceive himself with assumptions of victory. _"Game in hand. I am the Gambler of Fate, after all." _But barely a second after he thought this, Sora threw his Keyblade past him, striking a card. A burst of energy struck Luxord in the back, sending him stumbling forward and thoroughly catching him off guard. _"He chose correctly? Impossible! It's _my_ game, and-" _But his furious thoughts were interrupted with a flurry of Keyblade strikes, against which he had no time for defense. Luxord was forced to give ground, backstepping as the Keyblade attacked his arms, his left leg, his head. He only managed to teleport away after one of Sora's slashes ripped the piercings from his right ear; his anguished scream filled the spaces between the worlds before he reemerged on Havoc's Divide.

_"Foolish! Chance favors no one - it's all a matter of hedging one's bets." _Luxord chastised himself for his hubris, as a pair of dice materialized in his hand. He threw them at the oncoming Sora, catching him in mid-leap and likely bruising a couple of ribs. Sora collapsed to the ground, and Luxord was ready for him. Again, a flurry of cards surrounded Sora, a hundred X's and a single O swirling in the air around him, occasionally darting in for a slash or two. Luxord watched with sadistic pleasure, as the boy searched desperately for the game-winning card. Luxord had indeed hedged his bets, and it wasn't long before he decided to hedge them a little more.

Time warped in the storm of cards, and Sora's movements slowed to half speed, as the cards gained velocity and cut him ever faster and ever deeper. A Cure spell prolonged Sora's fight, but couldn't keep the blood from flowing. As Luxord advanced on the weakening Keyblade master, ready to reach through the cards and personally snap his neck, Sora suddenly sped up.

Luxord took a shocked step back, and watched the scene unfold over the next few seconds. He didn't know how it happened, and never would know for sure; but with a swipe of the Keyblade and a flash of light, it was Sora moving twice as quickly as the cards. The manipulation of time reversed itself, and Luxord had little opportunity to react. _"Turn my attribute against me, will he?" _thought Luxord, suddenly angry. He summoned a pair of massive cards, and raised them to slice Sora's dome of cards apart. No sooner had the cards appeared, however, than Sora snatched one from the hundred and one surrounding him. Luxord had a split second to see the design on it: a red O.

_"How can he keep winning? He cheats!" _Luxord's ire faded into panic, as Sora threw the card at him, striking him directly in the chest. Luxord felt the energy in the card radiate through his torso, fracturing his ribcage as cracks raced along his bones from the point of impact. Luxord had no choice but to duck, as he collapsed to avoid Sora's next attack. He coughed up blood as he rolled to the side, desperately evading the line of fire as his bones slowly reformed. He could see the red standing out starkly against the castle's ivory floor, already turning black and evaporating into darkness. It was a grim reminder of his fate if he continued on his current course.

_"Ninety seconds in, and he's beating me at my own games!" _Luxord's mind raced wildly along this grim line of thinking, as he stood shakily to meet Sora's relentless assault. _"It's as if time itself is destroying me, the way this boy keeps coming!" _Despite Luxord's power over time, the only benefit he currently possessed because of it was a vision of the likeliest future. Even that was no blessing; as Luxord frantically raised cards in his defense and countered where he could, an image of Sora standing triumphant as he himself faded was growing ever sharper in his thoughts. Something had to be done, and Luxord knew he would have to step up his game if he wanted to change his fate.

With a roar of outrage, Luxord slowed Sora's movements, grabbing him in midair and resorting to a good old-fashioned right hook to the face. He felt Sora's nose break, relishing his enemy's cry of pain and the wetness of blood on his gloves. Luxord threw Sora to the ground, bringing a foot down on his neck. "Fold, you insufferable scoundrel! _FOLD!" _Luxord increased the pressure on Sora's neck, blocking several Keyblade strikes with a summoned handful of cards. _"It's not often I use such methods," _Luxord reflected. _"No wonder the others don't play fair."_ Luxord raised his foot to crush Sora beneath his boot once and for all. "Look who's on top of the game!" he laughed bitterly.

Sora was unmoved. With a sudden lunge, he grabbed Luxord's ankle, pulling himself up to a standing position. "All in, Luxord!" he cried, and jerked his hand to the side. With strength he didn't even know he had, Sora snapped Luxord's ankle, sending the Nobody into a world of pain.

Luxord's scream echoed off the walls of the Castle and across the Dark City as Sora let go of his ankle and kicked him in the back of the knee. Wrapped in a shroud of rage and agony, Luxord swept his good leg under Sora's feet, but Sora leaped aside and rushed him with his Keyblade. Barely conscious and still wracked with searing pain from his slow-healing ankle, Luxord teleported again to the other side of the balcony. Sora came to a stop at the opposite edge, and turned to face his opponent. Eyes filled with murder, Luxord forced himself to stand, his ankle fighting him every step of the way. "You play the game well," Luxord spat, his eyes burning. _"I'll be damned if I die on my knees, at the hands of this-" _Sora's sudden charge chased this thought from his mind, and Luxord instinctively raised a protective ring of cards. _"This should buy me some time - after all, there's still fifteen sec-"_

_SLASH._

Sora's keyblade paid no attention to plans or to fairness, carving through the cards like a hot knife through butter. Luxord suddenly lost all feeling in his lower body, but barely managed to keep it attached as his would-be shield disappeared into nothingness. The sudden push to the brink of death was too much for Luxord's powers, and the greater Nobody collapsed in a swirl of darkness.

Defeated seconds before the game's end, Luxord allowed himself a moment of incredulous thought. _"He fights just like one of us. He really is Number XIII's Other..." _Luxord felt his cut start to reopen as he failed to prevent his vivisection. His agony was an endless well of fuel for his fury - at defeat, at humiliation, at consignment to the nothingness. "How could you...Roxas..."

"That's _SORA!_" Sora's indignant retort was yet another reminder of just how wrong Luxord had been. Wrong in thinking he had mastered fate, wrong in trying to retain meaning in his fruitless nonexistence, and wrong in ever starting this fight.

As darkness poured from every inch of his body, consuming it as lava would consume rock, Luxord summed up his entire life in a simple, age-old phrase:

_"You win some. You lose some."_

---

I know. I made a grievous error in leaving you guys hanging for a month after I promised Luxord would die by Halloween. But if you had been as busy as I have been lately, you'd understand. You'd still be entitled to rip my heart out and feed it to Dusks, but you'd understand.  
Anyway. I plan to have a FAR better update schedule, and I hope to have at least "Flower" posted by the end of the year. But given my current track record, you can take that with a grain of salt. Happy Thanksgiving to all who celebrate it, and keep on reading and reviewing!

Especially reviewing. Christmas is coming, and that's an author's favorite gift. Other than cash.

Love and thanks to all the readers,

Zellarius Burvenia


	11. Flower

Castle Oblivion was unquestionably a marvel of architecture, logistically and aesthetically. The former clarification of its status it achieved by its very nature; the Castle's location at the extreme edge of existence was a testament to the enduring nature of the universe, after all. The top floor, farthest from the ground which served as the Castle's foundation, was thus the part of the castle closest to being devoured by darkness at any given moment. And yet the whole remained, allowed to showcase the other facet of its unique and incomparable architecture: its very form and substance. Even twisted beyond recognition from its original form, Castle Oblivion maintained an imposing and morbidly beautiful exterior, its crenellations, turrets and countless other attributes breathtaking in their cohesiveness, despite their apparent ignorance of the laws of physics. The interior: a stark white series of halls and rooms, minimalist in appearance and furnishings, but captivating in their ivory tranquility.

This tranquility was broken only on the thirteenth floor, by spots of red – spots of blood. Naminé's blood. The young Nobody cowered on the cold metal floor, bleeding from a cut across her cheek and avoiding the livid gaze of her oppressor. Marluxia, the Graceful Assassin, Lord of Castle Oblivion, stood over her, regarding her with an expression of distaste. "Tell me, little witch," he spat. "Do you care nothing for your own well-being?" Naminé was silent, trembling as she raised a hand to her wound – her movement her only sign of life.

Marluxia would not have this insubordination. With a sudden, deliberate thrust of his arm, he grabbed Naminé by the shoulder, pulling her roughly to her feet and taking her chin forcefully in his hand. Her frightened blue eyes mirrored his furious glare – in color alone. "_You_ defied Larxene, and in doing so allowed Sora to face her unrestricted. _You _stood in her way to protect _him_." Marluxia held her there a moment longer, and backhanded her with his free hand. Another bruise was added to Naminé's already marred features, and she was cast roughly to the ground. "Because of you, another member of the Organization has fallen, and that is tantamount to killing her yourself!" Marluxia turned his back on her then, and gave an exaggerated, theatrical sigh. "The things I do for you, Naminé. I feed you, clothe you, shelter and educate you. Is it too much to ask that you earn a little of it?"

Naminé lay on the ground, absorbing the question and watching her blood turn to darkness and evaporate, leaving nothing behind to suggest its existence. It reminded her just how fragile her time in the worlds was, and forced a pained "No, sir. No, it's not." Tears stung her eyes, and she struggled to hold them back.

Marluxia turned to face her. "Are you sure you mean that?" He wore a small smile, almost taunting her with a simple twitch of the muscles in his face. "After all," he continued, affecting a curious tone, "don't you feel the slightest bit of…hesitation?" Naminé looked up at him from her crumpled position below, confused. Marluxia continued, maintaining his façade of innocent questioning. "Meddling with someone's memories…that changes a person, do you know that? What they believe. How they behave." He stopped, inches from the quivering girl. "Who they are."

Naminé painfully raised her head to meet Marluxia's eyes, willing herself not to burst into tears. There was only one right answer, and even then the worst of it wasn't over. "No, sir. I serve the Organization, and the mission comes before everything." The sentence was like a stake in her chest, being pounded an inch deeper with every word as she acknowledged her helplessness.

Marluxia took a knee, bending to Naminé's level, and gently stroked her bowed head. She flinched at his touch, but said nothing. "You feel absolutely nothing regarding your treatment of Sora?" Naminé did not respond for several seconds. Then, choosing her words carefully: "Nothing at all." Marluxia's caresses lost their gentleness, as his hand made a fist in her hair. He stood, yanking Naminé to her feet. She screamed at the sudden pain, and felt her eyes overflowing as the torment broke her. Marluxia shifted his grip to the back of her neck, constricting his hand and allowing barely enough room to breathe. He forced Naminé to look him in the eye.

"Damn right you don't. You're a Nobody – no heart, no feelings." Marluxia slackened his grip, and moved his hand to Naminé's tear-streaked face. "You can pretend all you like, but you will never truly feel an emotional response to me, to anyone, or to anything. Those tears? Salt water, and nothing more." So saying, Marluxia raised his other hand. Holding Naminé's head in his hands, he closed his eyes, channeling a fraction of his own power into her. "Let's get you cleaned up for your hero, shall we?" he murmured. A soft pink glow enveloped Naminé's head, and results manifested within seconds – the cut on her face sealed, the bruises faded, and the blood was wiped clean. When Marluxia lowered his hands, Naminé looked none the worse for her abuse.

"Now that we've established your lack of emotions, you should have no trouble redeeming yourself." Marluxia stepped back from Naminé, and snapped his fingers. His form blurred, splitting in two, and in an instant a mirror image of Marluxia stood next to the real one.

"Sora and his companions have reached this floor of the castle," both Marluxias said at once, their voices reaching Naminé in stereo. "I'm depending on you to put an end to this, once and for all. My copy will tell you what to do." The Marluxia on the left summoned a portal of darkness, disappearing through it. The other Graceful Assassin approached Naminé, taking her hand. She stood frozen in terror, held in place by the copy's calculating gaze, and found the courage to speak. "What does the Lord of the Castle require of me?" she asked, in resignation at delivering the oft-repeated line.

The false Marluxia smiled, leading her to the center of the room. "All in good time. Come – your hero approaches."

* * *

So Sora did. Naminé had orders to erase Sora's memories and destroy his heart; to the shock of everyone present, however, Sora had accepted this fate. This he had done, even after Naminé had refused. It was the first time she had stood up to Marluxia, and it would not be the last. A brief exchange later, the room that had been Naminé's torture chamber was a war zone. Unseen to Marluxia, the downtrodden, abused Nobody had fled, slipping around a corner – any corner – in the long hallway leading away from the room. Naminé collapsed as soon as she left the hall, sobbing uncontrollably. For the past several days, she had been forced to systematically strip away the memories of someone she didn't even know; did that make her as bad as Marluxia, even if it was against her will? She didn't think so, but the slightest notion of it kept her shackled to the sterile floors in despair. When finally she opened her eyes, she stretched out her hand, summoning a small portal as Axel had taught her in secret. From this she withdrew her beloved sketchbook and a box of crayons, her only escape from the horror within Castle Oblivion.

Naminé opened the sketchbook, flipping to her latest picture – Sora, Donald, and Goofy standing defiantly before Marluxia. At first, she spared it only a passing glance. But as she turned the page, something clicked within her, and a radical thought came:

"_I drew this after lunch today…didn't I just see it happen?"_

Suddenly Naminé stirred, getting to her knees and turning to the latest empty page in her sketchbook. Why hadn't she noticed this before? She wiped her face clean of her tears, which no longer flowed. With an uncharacteristic expression of barely-contained rage and iron resolve developing on her face, Naminé selected a pink crayon and began to draw.

* * *

Marluxia watched the battle through the eyes of his copy, and breathed a sigh of manufactured contentment. _"It seems like only yesterday I was first setting foot in this castle. How the time flies."_

He was standing in what could be considered the attic of Castle Oblivion – an extradimensional space linked to the rest of the Castle by the door his double now guarded. The immaculately white platform on which he stood terminated in four pillars and a drop into an endless void – gray as far as the eye could see, with not even the swirling consistency of fog to give the illusion of anything beyond the field of battle.

"_I'm not about to lie to myself. That's exactly what this place will become, once Sora carves his way through my Absent Silhouette."_ Marluxia's assessment of the battle was accurate, and based entirely on his own machinations. The Silhouette could hold its own for a while because that was what it was designed for – a temporary obstacle to the Keyblade Master's quest. Marluxia certainly wasn't about to kill him now – let alone indirectly – after all the time and resources he had devoted to the boy's corruption.

Marluxia waved a hand carelessly, and wisps of nothingness coalesced behind him into vines. The vines twisted and wove together, blossoming here and there and creating an armchair of plants from which Marluxia could watch the show unfold. Reclining in the floral seat, the Graceful Assassin took the next few minutes to reflect on the events which led him here.

His earliest memory was of his fall from grace. Marluxia had been a man of some importance in his former life, to put it mildly; "some importance" meaning "populations lived and died by his command." The 78th Lord of Valentine Town, across from that locale's Halloween counterpart, to be exact. And while the lifeblood of that world was love, unconditional and beautiful, Lamuria had seen and embraced its darker side: lust, manipulative and desirous; envy, destructive and hateful. His life had revolved around fulfilling these short-term goals – constant and instant gratification in a world that, in his perception, was designed for these things.

Avarice begets avarice, and Valentine Town was a tragic example of this universal truth. Lamuria's thirst for fulfillment was bottomless. The visual arts were in constant demand at the Manor of Roses, and were the first to be exhausted. In mere months, the walls and corridors were full to bursting with paintings, sculptures, and all the best that Valentine Town's creatively gifted had to offer. Lamuria would gaze on each one for no more than a day before he had seen all he believed he could see. The practitioners of visual beauty worked themselves to death on pain of torture, seeing greater merit in expiring through their greatest joy. And when the last of the great masters suffered a massive heart attack in the middle of painting his last work at swordpoint, Lamuria demanded more.

His next obsession would be theater, and from there he would progress to music and thence to literature. Passion came and went in a world devoted to it, until at last Lamuria discovered flowers. Flowers were different from any other kind of beautiful thing, in that they endured. A single plant produces many seeds, and Lamuria had a staff of gardeners working constantly to expand his therefore immortal gardens. While the walls of his estate moved ever outward to accommodate a world's beauty, the people of Valentine Town suffered unimaginably. Gone were the beautiful things in life. Gone were the best and the brightest and the handsomest of the town's inhabitants. All these things had long since been locked away behind Lamuria's doors. Deprived of almost everything that made life worth living, Valentine Town slowly withered and died.

And then the Heartless came.

The fate of Valentine Town was almost merciful. The few who had not starved to death or taken their own lives were torn apart quickly, their hearts consumed by the relentless tide of darkness. These remaining citizens were spared any further torment. Little did any of them know that that of their Lord was just beginning.

Marluxia closed his eyes, his grip on the chair's arms tightening and crushing some of the vines. _"That was the day that beauty died,"_ he recalled bitterly. His guards – what few of them hadn't deserted – had crumpled beneath the assault of the living darkness. The creatures had swarmed through the halls of the Manor of Roses, desecrating every surface with their touch; even the walls and ceilings were alive with the things, which inadvertently ripped paintings to shreds, toppled statues, and shattered stained glass windows in their mad search for hearts.

Lamuria's had been a spectacular prize – the darkness within practically begged to be released. His death marked the end of a world that celebrated love and beauty in all its forms. But what Marluxia regretted, upon waking, was not the tragic destruction of such a formerly idyllic and blissful realm. Not that in itself. Rather, he had been livid just thinking about the destruction of all he once gazed upon appraisingly. _His _galleries. _His _courtyards. _His _banquet halls, _his _stained glass windows, _his _statues. Most devastating was the loss of his gardens, once thought immortal in their splendor.

That, Marluxia reflected, was the reason why he had come to embrace the nothingness. A matter subject to much discussion within the ranks of the Organization was the nature of its operatives' nonexistence. _"An attribute for each greater Nobody, apparently reflective of the nonperson's…psyche. Preferences. Lifestyle. What have you."_ In Marluxia's eyes, the attribute of flower was his chance at regaining beauty in his life, and at using it to his advantage. _"After all, was there any sense in letting it just sit there? What a fool that Lamuria was."_

And besides, now that he didn't age, Marluxia had all the time in the world to rebuild his collection. He had the Garden of Futility in the Castle that Never Was, attended to with greater care than afforded most people. The Blind Gallery had been added to Castle Oblivion on his orders, and he had up to this point kept Naminé working around the clock to fill it. _"All she ever does is draw. She should be thankful." _He had the appreciable items. All that was missing was the capacity to appreciate them – a heart. Nothing could bring Marluxia joy anymore, he found – without emotions, none of his collection could ever truly make him happy. _"But in the end, isn't there a whole universe out there for my entertainment? I can't imagine boredom ever being a problem again." _With a sigh, Marluxia turned his attention back to Sora's battle, hoping to chase such conflicts from his mind with thoughts of impending victory.

All was as planned; the Absent Silhouette was clearly slowing. Here it would stagger at a blow from Sora's Keyblade; there it would stumble in the act of dodging. Its strikes grew sluggish, weaker with each passing second.

Marluxia nodded his acceptance. "That's that, then. I've toyed with him long enough." As he rose from his improvised chair, preparing for the assault, a voice echoed forth from the surrounding emptiness.

**_Why so hasty, my Lord?_**

With a violent start, Marluxia whirled, searching for the source of the voice. _"…The hell? There shouldn't _be _anyone else in here!"_ Marluxia summoned his scythe, insurance against any and all danger. "Show yourself!" he commanded.

**_As you wish._**

From out of the mists of nothingness, a Nobody emerged. It was a Nobody unlike any Marluxia had ever seen – at least ten feet tall and willowy, humanoid yet otherworldly. Great silver wings unfolded from its back, and it levitated, having no legs to speak of. A beaklike helmet, emblazoned with the insignia of Organization XIII, hid its face from the nose up, its expression only visible in its mouth. By all appearances it was female, a characteristic its alto voice reinforced.

**_This is a day of reckoning for those who lack hearts, Marluxia. From your desires and from the nothingness have I come to ensure your destiny is fulfilled._**

Marluxia eyed the angelic Nobody warily. "And how are you to do this? What if this is nothing more than a ruse?"

The Nobody shook its head, a thin smile frozen on its obscured face.**_ You may call me Spectre. For almost as long as you have, I have served the Organization faithfully in every capacity. I have worked against the Keyblade wielder and the forces of light, and I stand before you, unarmed and vulnerable, to offer you my existence in service to your crusade._** So saying, the Nobody knelt, bowing its head and exposing its neck to Marluxia.

Marluxia regarded this new arrival appraisingly, weighing his options. _"I could always refuse. I can't be sure of this one's intent. Although..."_ He stumbled suddenly, a shock passing through him. That was it, then - the Absent Silhouette had fallen. Another copy rose to taunt the hero, and through its eyes Marluxia saw, incredibly, that Sora looked none the worse for the battle that had just ended. He turned back to the Nobody, still kneeling. "I may have some use for you yet," declared the Graceful Assassin. "You may fight by my side."

Spectre rose from its position of subservience, still smiling. **_I shall do better than that, my lord. I shall carry you into battle. Have a seat._**

Marluxia, unsure, moved back to the armchair of plants. No sooner had he reached it than it stretched out its vines for him, wrapping his legs in constrictor-like coils. Marluxia's immediate reaction was panic - what could possibly turn his beloved greenery against him? He readied his scythe, preparing to cut himself free.

**_Peace, Marluxia. My intentions are strictly honorable. _**Marluxia hesitated a moment, watching the Nobody work. Vines were enveloping his entire lower body, yet they did not move to crush him. Rather, they seemed to be conforming to his body, holding him in place while avoiding discomfort. _"Carry me into battle..."_ Marluxia was becoming intrigued. Suddenly, he found himself rising, borne skyward by some mysterious force. Looking down, he saw Spectre kneeling below him, lifting him onto the Nobody's back. Nothingness began to swirl around them ominously, as in a gathering storm, and it was from this nothingness that Spectre drew even greater power. As Marluxia looked on in wonder, his new servant doubled, then tripled in size; its entire body gained thick white armor, and its arms extended and sharpened into deadly claws. Within minutes, Marluxia rode at the head of a massive, floating, machinelike creature, its sole remaining humanoid feature the constantly smiling face at its front.

Spectre's voice echoed in Marluxia's head: **_Does this suit you, my lord?_**

Marluxia took all this in, allowing an incredulous grin to spread across his face. _"Unbelievable...so this is the true power of nothingness! But it could do with some...personalization."_ With this thought, the vines around Marluxia exploded with life, or a facsimile born of nothing, blossoming into a massive pink flower that surrounded him. He then took his scythe in both hands; after a moment's concentration, it separated into two blades, which he handed down to Spectre. With a flash of dusky pink light, they combined with the great clawed arms of Marluxia's servant, forming horrifically sharp claws like those of a praying mantis. The preparations were now complete. Marluxia found for the first time in what seemed forever that he was genuinely excited; now, he believed, Sora's quest was at an end. He was not tired from creating the Absent Silhouette, nor did his union with Spectre exhaust him. Today above all other days, Marluxia felt invincible. He closed his eyes once more, watching the scene unfold in the anteroom. Sora had finally made up his mind to face him in battle, and approached the door devoid of all fear.

Marluxia chuckled; it seemed like the right thing to do. "I'm going to _genuinely _enjoy this," he murmured. "Spectre, hide yourself for the moment. I want to savor every second of Sora's dawning despair." Without a word, Spectre vanished, leaving Marluxia seemingly floating in midair. A glance toward the room's sole entrance told Marluxia that the door was slowly opening.

_"Let him come," _though Marluxia smugly. _"Let him see how hideously outmatched he really is!"_

* * *

Upon opening the door to Marluxia's chamber, Sora was momentarily dazzled by a flash of whitest light. It was not the pure light that he represented; this light was born of the void, the absence of all else creating a blinding vista of emptiness. The young Keyblade Master shook it off, dashing through the doorway toward his destiny. His footsteps were lost in the endless gray abyss, their sound lacking anything to even echo off of. Sora stopped on the outer edge of a massive white arena, ringed with four tall columns and inlaid with an intricate yet lifeless design of a white rose. He skidded to a halt and looked around; at first glance, the room was empty. A single pink petal fell in the middle of the room, and Sora could barely contain his shock when he looked up to discover its source. Marluxia, the Graceful Assassin, Organization XIII's Number XI, hovered thirty feet above the boy, glaring down at him with cold fury - yet his voice bespoke triumph.

"Soon the emptiness will shatter your heart..." Marluxia began, indicating the infinite vacuum in every direction. "Here in this world of nothingness!"

The last syllables of his challenge died away, swallowed by a gray tornado bearing hundreds of petals. The storm of nothing completely obscured Marluxia, its winds pushing Sora to the edge of the battlefield. It raged for merely ten seconds, but no more was necessary. When Sora finally opened his eyes, even his adventurer's heart was shocked at the figure before him. His enemy stood astride a gigantic Nobody, armored and armed to be more than a match for him. His expression of wonder and horror was reflected in the long, pink, wickedly sharp blades that the Nobody possessed in place of hands, and Marluxia himself seemed a part of this formidable beast. Marluxia raised both hands in victory, and issued what he thought would be one of many future denunciations of the light:

"As lightless oblivion devours you - drown in the ever-blooming darkness!"

* * *

Marluxia rode into battle astride his new servant, assured of his victory now that his plans were back on track. From atop the veritable force of nature that Spectre would prove to be, Sora looked laughably small; his Keyblade seemed nothing more than a sewing needle from Marluxia's point of view.

_"This looks promising indeed...let's see how this works, shall we?"_ Marluxia opened his mouth to order Spectre to attack, but was interrupted when the towering Nobody did exactly that.  
Sora went for a direct assault, leaping straight between the scythe-arms and aiming for Spectre's head. Before he was even halfway to his destination, he was batted aside effortlessly by the flat of the left blade. The boy's cry of pain brought a perverse satisfaction to Marluxia, who delighted in such seamless integration between his desires and current events. **_Your thoughts are my directives, my lord, _**confirmed Spectre.

Marluxia regarded Sora carefully, watching him twist in midair and land on his feet, skidding slightly. A gesture in his direction sent Spectre gliding toward him, closing off any escape. With another flourish, several petals detached from the Graceful Assassin's floral throne, reforming into three rosebuds that swooped down to surround Sora. The Keyblade master had mere seconds to notice this before one of them fired a concentrated bolt of pink energy at him. He bent over backwards to avoid it, nearly falling with the suddenness of the maneuver; soon he was forced to give ground, deflecting blasts with his Keyblade as Marluxia advanced.

Spectre backed Sora almost against a column, and Marluxia was almost disappointed at how quickly things had turned in his favor. _"Here I stand, effectively waiting for him to die. Where's the value in such an easy victory?" _Marluxia briefly contemplated calling off the rosebuds, but immediately found that that would be unnecessary. Sora got lucky - one of the blasts he deflected reduced a rosebud to burning, falling petals. A hole in Marluxia's offense had opened up, and Sora dove straight through, leaping at and slashing another rosebud to pieces. Satisfied at this new challenge, Marluxia willed Spectre to attack.

No sooner had Sora turned around than a scythe-arm sliced his vision in two. He barely managed to leap back, then threw his Keyblade past the pink blade to deal with the third rosebud. It exploded into a shower of petals, and Marluxia prepared to summon three more. A grunt of surprise - or possibly pain - from Spectre alerted him to a troubling new development. Spectre drew its arm back, revealing to its master a crack in the blade where the Keyblade had grazed it. Looks of comprehension came to Sora and Marluxia at roughly the same time - mixed with determination in the former and shock in the latter.

**_I am not invincible, my lord. Attack!_** Marluxia knew this to be imperative, and ordered Spectre to charge the boy. The great machinelike Nobody roared across the battlefield, intending to knock Sora into oblivion, but the boy saw this coming. "Graviga!" Sora cast the spell and rolled out of the way; the magical force brought Spectre to the ground. It dug its scythe-arms into the immaculate floor to slow itself, but the weakened right blade snapped under the stress. Only a collision with a column stopped its slide. The impact jarred Marluxia's body, nearly throwing him from his position. As Spectre took to the air once more, Marluxia's hands gripped its surface indignantly. "Must I sacrifice the pleasure of killing you?" he demanded, advancing on Sora once more.

Spectre hovered at an angle, unbalanced by the loss of a blade. As such, its attacks were clumsier, due to the necessity of recalibrating its flight. Slash after slash sent Sora rolling and leaping to protect himself, none scoring a significant hit; as Spectre stopped to right itself, Sora struck. In a daring gambit that shocked even Marluxia, Sora hurled his Keyblade at Spectre's good arm, jumping after it. The weapon hit Spectre's own, and Sora caught it as it rebounded, defying the very laws of physics to stay in the air as he attacked. With each strike, cracks spiderwebbed in the pink blade, until finally it shattered. Spectre was now left with sparking, jagged, useless pieces of metal instead of blades, and this infuriated Marluxia to no end. _"What kind of servant are you?" _he thought. _"It's as if you're not even trying!" _He summoned his scythe again, and drew it back for an attack on Sora. _"Must I do everything myself?"_

Spectre stopped suddenly, motionless even as Sora jumped, grabbed its side, and began climbing toward the Graceful Assassin. **_Perhaps that is for the best, _**it responded. Its voice aroused anger in Marluxia, which quickly gave way to unease. "What do you mean?" he said out loud, as Sora stood and ran to get to Spectre's head. "Spectre? What is the meaning of this?" Sora stopped, halfway between Spectre's head and Marluxia and looking from one to the other. A sudden chill ran through Marluxia, who set about summoning rosebuds in a panic. "_WHAT IN KINGDOM HEARTS' NAME ARE YOU?" _he screamed as Sora swung for his head.

* * *

Suddenly Marluxia's surroundings were gone - different, rather. Instead of a formless gray void, he found himself in what looked like a massive wire-frame globe - or cage - surrounded by black and blue emptiness. Looking down, he saw his lower body disappearing into a black-and-purple mass that segued into a great platform - a new battlefield. At the other end of the platform was Sora, apparently just as surprised as Marluxia at the change in surroundings. After a moment of initial wonder and confusion, Sora staggered back in amazement, staring at something above Marluxia's head. Marluxia turned to see what it was.

Spectre towered over him, easily a hundred feet high. It had changed - now it had taken on the appearance of a spindly angel, four wings beating, whipping up a maelstrom around them. Its face was still shrouded in shadow, save for a frozen smirk that chilled Marluxia to the bone. Most unsettling was its chosen weapon - it wielded a gigantic version of Marluxia's scythe. Sora shook off his shock first, rushing Marluxia with Keyblade at the ready. Quickly, Marluxia swept his hand through the air, drawing wind from around him and blasting Sora back in a storm of petals. As Sora recovered, Marluxia directed a quick thought toward Spectre. _"I ask again, what are you? What is your purpose? Where did you come from?"_

Silence greeted him. Marluxia summoned a squadron of rosebuds to slow Sora's renewed assault, all the while trying to summon his scythe. It was useless - the weapon remained in Spectre's hands, and as a result Marluxia was left wide open to Sora's Keyblade strikes. The boy's resilience was remarkable - even deprived of his memories from his journey through Castle Oblivion, he fought like he had something precious still to live for. He would be burned and blasted by the rosebuds, and yet would always carve through them. Storms of petals would push him back, but he would return when they had died down. Marluxia's best efforts were inevitably rewarded with a blow to the side...a cut across his arm...a broken bone. Dodging a barrage from a rosebud, Sora dropped to the ground, rolling and coming up with a swing of his Keyblade. The impact snapped Marluxia's leg with a visceral _CRACK_, sending the Graceful Assassin to the ground, screaming in anguish. In absence of tears, choked gasps dogged his every breath. And yet he would always heal; some internal hatred or resolve compelled him to laboriously rise to the challenge, his battered body soaking up abuse from Sora.

_"Impossible..." _he thought despairingly, his breath coming in ragged gasps as his ribs (and a collapsed lung) healed. _"No matter what I do, Sora keeps coming. It's as if it's his destiny to defeat me!" _

**_WRONG! _**roared Spectre after a long silence. **_Destiny is not followed - it is made! All shall be revealed to you through this ultimate lesson! _**Marluxia whipped his head around, surprised at the voice of his former servant - his new torturer. _"Why do you keep me here? Who are you to-"_ His chest was ripped violently apart in his moment of distraction. Before he could even look back, Sora had leaped half the length of the platform, throwing his Keyblade mid-jump. Marluxia could only look at it - it stuck straight through his torso, piercing his absence of a heart. Darkness seeped from the wound as it throbbed in unbearable pain - a pain that doubled when Sora ripped the Keyblade from his adversary's body. Marluxia's cry of defeat and immeasurable agony was almost lost to the empty space around him; suddenly, time stopped, freezing the sound so that it constantly echoed in his ears. His own screams mingled with Spectre's icy voice pronouncing his doom.

**_I shall tell you who I am, Marluxia. I am all that you valued, come to betray your stubborn, selfish excuse for existence. Beauty, twisted beyond recognition. Innocence, driven to vengeance. You end here, by the hand of your desire... _**Suddenly, the voice changed to one that was all too familiar. A small, yet strong voice. One that bespoke years of pain and perseverance.

Naminé's voice.

"Just as I shall one day end by Kairi's."

And as time returned to its normal flow, as a look of terror spread across his pale, perfect face, in Marluxia's last moments of dawning comprehension, the angelic Nobody's smile became a horrifically victorious grin. The avatar of nothingness raised the scythe; Marluxia barely had time to glimpse his expression of mortified defeat reflected in the pink blade before it fell with devastating finality, ripping the hole in his chest even wider. Darkness, infused with dusky pink petals, poured forth from the wound. The Graceful Assassin shuddered violently on the blade, his power failing to save him and finally abandoning his ruined body. He was dead already - he simply refused to accept it; to accept that his own cruelty had bred such ruthless retribution, to admit that he had died as much by his own hand as his own weapon. With a monumental effort, he raised his head to see his victorious opponent. To Sora, the scythe strike looked like a deliciously ironic accident. He would never know the truth - and somehow, the thought that his defeat would be misremembered infuriated Marluxia even more. He would die, and he would die humiliated.

Spectre vanished behind him, leaving Marluxia alone. Agony ripping at his every nerve, he reached for Sora one final time, the remaining embodiment of his suffering; but by then he could no longer hold on to his futile simulacrum of existence. His physical form flickered once, twice, and finally dissolved, a scattering cloud of darkness and petals all that remained of the Lord of Castle Oblivion.

So it was that beauty died once more.

* * *

Axel reappeared in the highest hallway of Castle Oblivion, clutching his side, stumbling and catching himself against a wall. "Whew! Sora's a tricky one, that's for sure. I'll be keeping an eye on him in the future..." There was a great rumbling noise from beyond - Axel lifted his head toward the end of the hall, and cracked a smile. "That'll be flowerboy. Won't the boss be pleased..." Something crumpled on the ground caught his eye. A few steps farther revealed its identity: Naminé lay seemingly motionless on the ivory floor, surrounded by sheets of paper. Axel broke into a half-run, falling to his knees next to her. "Yo! Naminé! Say something! Talk to me..." Her chest rose and fell as he shook her, and Axel breathed a sigh of relief. For the first time, he noticed the contents of the paper surrounding Naminé. On one, there was a drawing of Sora, Donald, and Goofy standing defiantly before Marluxia. Another showed the door at the end of the hall opening, Sora standing ready to enter. Gradually, the drawings grew more elaborate and detailed; one showed Marluxia astride a massive machinelike Nobody, with Sora dismantling it violently. Another showed a similar-looking angelic Nobody behind Marluxia, as Sora ran to do battle.

Axel chuckled. "Huh. Guess she had to let it all out somehow." One final picture caught his eye. He laid Naminé down and picked it up, studying it carefully. It was a drawing of Marluxia, his face contorted in torturous anguish, his chest pierced with his own scythe. Black and pink crayon covered the middle of the picture, as if Naminé had haphazardly scribbled Marluxia out. Axel shuddered, noticing a broken pink crayon on the ground. He stood up abruptly, dropping the picture; it landed on its front side, revealing another drawing opposite it. It seemed to be an endless white space, an egg-like containment chamber dominating the middle of it. A message was scrawled across the top:

"Take me here."

"Don't need to tell me twice," Axel mused. He opened a portal and picked up Naminé, carrying her on his shoulder. Halfway through the portal, he stopped; after a moment's thought, he snapped his fingers. As the portal closed behind them, the pictures caught fire and burned away. The moments leading up to her blackout would forever be a blank in Naminé's memory.

Perhaps it was for the best.

* * *

Eight months without an update. That's unforgivable. No amount of apology can undo that, and I present to you the longest chapter yet as some small form of atonement. I felt Naminé deserved some measure of retribution; I also felt that there was more to her than any of the Organization ever let on. Maybe it was for their own safety as much as hers.

Larxene before the end of the month. I'm considering Xion, per the request of AswaxSora.

Love and thanks to all the readers,

Zellarius Burvenia


End file.
